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1 » • ' ' 


V • I 

■ I 


vA V. 





Thomas Garland, 









A FEW words may be necessary by way of introduction 
to the following pages. It had never occurred, even in 
thought, to the writer, that in the event of his surviving 
his brother the task of preparing a memorial would 
devolve upon him ; and when the subject was first pressed 
on his consideration he was quite at a loss to know from 
what source the materials were to be gathered. His 
deceased relative had indeed been for many years a public 
man, well-known especially in his native county, with whose 
commercial, literary, political, and religious interests he 
had uniformly been identified. For more than thirty 
years he had also been an active and influential member 
of the Wesleyan Church. The general tenor of his life, 
however, was such as to present no incidents sufficiently 
striking to justify any pretensions to a regular biography ; 
and the only course that seemed to offer was that of 
making such a selection from his various writings as 
would give them a more permanent form than they were 
otherwise likely to obtain. The productions of his pen 
were mainly political, though there is no lack of evidence 
that on other subjects he could bring to bear with effect 
the powers of a highly cultivated mind. 

It remained to decide as to the manner in which these 
selections should be given to the public. A compilation 
of articles on different topics, prefaced by a short 


biographical sketch, would have been every way most 
convenient to the writer, and also a comparatively easy 
task, attended with little toil beyond the manual labor 
required in transcribing for the press. He did not, how- 
ever, feel at liberty to adopt this method. Every life 
that has in it anything worth recording should as far as 
possible be made the medium of instruction to others ; 
and this object would best be attained by interweaving a 
thread of narrative, as far as the matter would allow, with 
the general collection of his writings. 

In the preparation of the volume regard has been had 
to different classes of readers. Those to whom the 
subject was personally known, especially in the religious 
sphere in which he moved, may not be uninterested by 
some details connected with the religious associations of 
his earlier days, though for others these particulars may 
have little attraction. The extensive circle of his acquaint- 
ance will also comprise many who have but a slender 
knowledge of the economy of that body of Christians with 
whom he was connected ; and this must be the apology 
for occasionally introducing some explanatory observations 
on Wesleyan Methodism, which to Wesleyans themselves 
will be altogether superfluous. 

In conclusion, the compiler has gratefully to acknow- 
ledge the kindness of the various parties who so promptly 
gave him access to the documents from which the material 
has chiefly been collected. 

Penzance, December^ 1867. 



Mr. Thomas Garland, senr.— His Birth and Education— Removal to 
Do vonshlre— Return to Cornwall -Marriage and Settlement at Cam- 
bridge—Religious Career— His Labora in the Wesleyan Church- 
Preachers at Cambridge — Richard Hampton ; his early life, public 
and private character— Manuscript Memorial— Mr Garland's books, 
journals, &c— His poetical connections. .... Page 1-8 


Birth of Thomas Garland, junr. — Scholastic days— Schools of the 
neighbourhood — The Charity School- The higher Academy — ^The 
" Great Revival" — ^The young Evangelist — Removed to Bodmin —The 
Minister — The young Scribe— Conclusion of School Studies. . 9-17 


The Mine Clerk — Character of the Employment— Life at the Mine— 
The stormy night — General reading — Youthful companionship and 
early separation — Attempts at poetry — The Pocket Magazine — 
Undesigned plagiarism— The ''Annuals" —Blackwood — Rejected 
Addresses— Manuscript Tale — Early Poems — Their character — 
Geoige Reynolds — ^Death of Thomas Garland, senr. 18-50 


The Magazine Memoir — Bridgo Chapel ^Rev. Josiah Hill — Chapol 
Architecture— Society ''Leaders" — Itinerant and local preachers— 
The Chapel and the Church— Parsons, Clerks, and Curates. . 51 -63 



Literary exerciBes — Attachment to Politics — Editorship of the 
Comvbian — Comish Newspapers in 1830 — Prospects of the new 
Journal— Prospectus— Introductory Articles, &c. . . 64-83 


(Selections from the Comithianj &c.) 

Editorial responsibilities — The " Investigator"— New Year's Address — 
PoUtical Review — Flattering prospects of the Journal— Objectors 
answered — Professional trickery exposed. .... 84-98 


(Selections from the Comnhian, &c. ) 

Beform Question— Meeting at Bodmin— Anti-Reform Petition— Dis- 
solution of Parliament— New Parliament — The Bishops warned— Sir 
Robert Peel -Political consistency — Fate of Reform — Opening of 
Parliament— Dissolution of Lord Grey's Ministry —Duke of Welling- 
ton— The Bill passed. 99-117 


(Selections from the Comvhian, &c.) 

Poland — Colonial Slavery — Ireland — Repeal— Irish Church — Jewish 
Disabilities— Unitarians and Bible Society — Temperance — Parlia- 
mentary Independence — Introduction of Peter Pbt. . 118-137 


Letters op " Peter Pry" : — The writer's passion for news— His appro- 
bation of the Comu&tan.— Debates in the Commons — Manumission of 
slaves — Dutch and Belgians — Wreck of the " Rothsay Castle" — Russia 
and the Poles— Unsuccessful authorship - Beer Bill — Irish Poor-Law 
— Mr Sheil — Maynooth College— Paganini — Lord Brougham — Mr. 
Prt at the Coronation— Westminster Abbey— Incidents— Duke of 
Wellington — Dr. Croly— New Peerage— Monarchical Government — 
Sir Richard Vyvyan 138-163 



Lettebs of " Peter Pry" : — Mr Calcraft — Lord Bldon — Fees at 
Westminster Abbey— Word to the Falmouth constituenoy — Miss 
Tibbs-Bejected Bill — Sir John Herschell — the PoH and the 
" People" — Hints to Publishers— Coleridge— Free Negroes in Africa 
— Who should study politics — literature of the Magazines — 
AthenceuM -Radical Meeting at Manchester — Bums' Memorial — 
Timu and the Ettrick Shepherd— Perth Reformers ~Gk>Temment 
patronage of Scienoe— Duke of Wellington and the Anti-Reformers 
— ^Temperance Societies. 

Conclusion of the Letters — Changes in the Cttmubifm affairs -Termi- 
nation of the Journal. 164-189 


Mairiageand remoral to Portx^eath—Religious views— Early notions of 
human perfectibility— How far in agreement with Scripture — 
Unitarians— Dr. Channing — Partiality for his writings— Peculiar 
attractions of the Unitarian theology— Channing*A character -^^ues- 
tion between Unitarians and the Bible Society — CorhvJtian's defence 
of Unitarians — Sodnian objections to the Trinity — - Comparative 
importance of religious and political errors-" Men of Taste" and 
Evangelical religion — ^The Gospel too often d^^raded by its advo- 
cates—Protection against extreme error -Peace of mind in the 
acceptance of the Truth 190-205 


(Selections from the West Briton, kc.) 

Removal of Napoleon's Remains to France — General Election— Lord 
Boscawen— Jewish disabilities — Sir R. Peel and the Income Tax— 
QtMrieriy Revitw—TAr, Plnmptre and the Masmooth College— Com 
Law agitation— Meeting at Atherstone 206-221 


(Selections from the Wui BrU(m, Ac.) 
New Year's Address— Dr Croly and Politics— Free Traders and Agri- 
culturists—The Duke in the Lords— Ballot— Egyptian wheat- -Church 
innovations at Helstone— Bishop's Letter— The Rubric —Mr. L« 
Grice— Gown and Surplice —Extent of a bishop's authority— Bishop's 


order revoked — Uniformity — Articles of Dr. Phillpotts's belief— 
Another Letter— The Bishop's concessions— His intellectual character 
— Mr. Hill and the Ecclesiastical Coort— Demand for more Bishops. 



(Selections from the Wut Briton^ kc) 

Com Laws— Dissolution and reconstruction of the Peel Ministry— 
Success of the Com Bill — Maynooth Endowment — Moral Philosophy 
of Mr. Maoaulay— Comfort for those who were deoeiTcd by Sir 
Robert Peel— The Maynooth Question— O'Connell and the State 
Trials— The Deirynane Peasantry— Repeal— The Repeal Funds- 
Railway mania in England. 253-271 


(Selections from the WestBriKnt, &c.) 

New Tear's Address— Mr. Adams and the new Planet — ^Wordsworth 
and Lord John Russell -The Messrs. Chambers —Lord G. Bentinck 
- Lord Melbourne 272-289 


(Correspondenoe. ) 

Missionary Anniyersary— Mr. Malkin — Robert Newton — Hints for 
authors— Ascendancy of Tory influence in the County — The Railway 
— Ministerial appointments — Etiquette of Corres{K)ndence— Joximey 
in the North— Wordsworth— Southey — Mrs. Southey— De Quincy— 
Carlisle Castle — Mr. Hingston — Bridge Missionary Meeting— Lecture 
at Falmouth ; an unpleasant critic Newspaper editors — Unsucoess. 
ful speculations— Financial prospects — The best books— Dr. Reed 
— " Life in Earnest"-" Perfect Peace"— Books of the Free Church 
Society — How to calculate the cost of a book— Hazlitt— Anecdote of 
Coleridge — District affairs— The Railways— Home visits — How to 
read Wordsworth. 290-812 



(CorrMpondence. ) 

Hayle Chapel—BoolcB— Lord Baoon— Poem on the Maynooih Grant— 
Answering'Letters — Ministerial Guests — " Coroish Banner " — HaTer> 
foidwest — Farewell Meeting — The Gathering at Blackwater — Use of 
Erergreens— Bedruth Newspaper — Removal from Redruth contem- 
plated— Going to Conference — Decided on settling at Fairfield — 
Anticipations — Invitation — Mesmerism — Circuit a£fairs —Advan- 
tages in ohangeof residence— Coleridge and Dr. Bowyer — Disappoint- 
ments in Town — Algernon Wells — Revival at Truro, ftc — District 
Meeting — Business matters — Domestic — St. Just Institution 813-333 


Letters on the Wesletah Agitation :— Preliminaiy remarks— The 
Fly-sheets — Suspected authorship — Extract— Supposed inquisitorial 
character of the Conference— Sensibility and judgment — True cause 
of the expulsion — Power of the Conference — Church Law according 
to the Timu — Not applicable to a religious society— Law of the 
Statute and of public opinion — Analogy between the Conference 
aud the Commons — Leading men — What liberty is desirable— 
Meeting at St. Columb — Mr Dunn's challenge— The reply— Mr. 
Everett — Mr. Griffith's identity— Characteristic oratory of the Ex- 
pelled—The true sublime— Mr. Osborne 334-367 


Letters on the Wesletan Aqitation : — To Mr. Dunn —Personal 
recollections — What led to expulsion, and what should have followed 
it — Mr. Dunn's charges against the Ministers— Sympathy of other 
denominations— Dr. Bums -" Wesleyan Times"— Challenge to Public 
discussion — Reasons for declining it— Letter to the Ccmitk Telegraph 
-r-Mr. Burnett— Grand scheme for remodelling the Conference — 
Letter to a Wesleyan Reformer— Objections to discipline — Spirit 
of the controversy — Tyranny not confined to high places — Moral 
aspect of the agitation — Proposals for a Geueral Reform Company — 
The storm and the calm 368-394 


Thomas Moore— Address at the Camborne Institution— Dr. Channing 
—Thomas Campbell— Missions— The Elections. . 395-425 



Last Contribution -Mr. Garland's early literature— Poetiy— Words- 
worth the favourite — The reader— Sir Walter Scott — Science - 
Music— Early attachment to politics — Strong views on particular 
questions- -No democrat — The Wesleyan — ^Bigotted to no sect — 
Strenuous opponent of High Church claims — Views of the Establish- 
ment—No sympathy with Voluntaryism — Intimacy with Bissenting 
Ministers — Rev. T. Binney in Cornwall— Missionary Deputations — 
Cornish Conference— Public speaker — Missionary Speeches —Local 
Preachers — Original preaching — Distaste for polemical divinity— 
Wesleyan Service— Hymn Book -New Chapel at Portreath - Sphere 
of Christian activity— Cottage Qardens— Lectures —Indications of 
ill-health— Sudden departure 426-454 


Robert Hall ; a Lecture 455 

"OuB Hymn Book." . 469 



Thomas, the father of the late Mr. Thomas Garland, 
was bom at Bridge, a small village near Redruth, in 
Cornwall. He was of poor, but honest parents, who 
could give him only such a scanty education as at tnat 
time was generally obtained by those who at a very 
eaiiy age were sent to work in the mines. He removed 
with his parents to Dartmoor, in Devonshire, when he 
was about the age of seventeen; and so far improved 
his opportunities that some years after he was intrusted 
with the management of a small copper mine in the 
West of Cornwall, at a short distance from the place 
where he passed the remainder of his life. Prosperity 
in his circumstances enabled him, in a short time, to 
take a house with a few acres of land in the neighbour- 
hood, and on his marriage in 1803, he settled at this 
place, called Cambrose, or more generally Cambridge, 
witii every fair prospect of worldly competence. 

In his early years he had been seriously impressed 
with the obligations of religion, to the renewing influence 
of which he was, however, a stranger, mitil about five years 
after his return to Cornwall from Devonshire, when he 
became the subject of a decided spiritual change, and 
forthwith connected himself with the Wesle3ran Society. 
His attachment to the church of his early choice was 
firm and unwavering, as being that in which he had 




received the greatest benefit, and which, more than any- 
other, opened up to him a sphere of honourable useful- 
ness. Yet he loved and reverenced the services of the 
National Church, at which also he frequently C(ftnmu- 
nicated. A small religious Society having sprung up at 
the place where his mining occupation was fixed, he 
was appointed as their '* Class-leader," and the pages 
of a diary which he kept for some years, afford striking 
evidence of the intense interest with which he watched 
the growth and prosperity of this little religious com- 
munity. To his duties as class-leader were shortly added 
those of '' local preacher," to which his Sabbatlis were 
generally devoted, and in which he labored for many a 
year with g^eat pleasure and acceptance; his pulpit talent 
blending considerable mental power with g^eat pathos, 
and securing a more than ordinary share of popularity. 
His work in these departments of Christian activity was 
often hard and wearisome; but happy in his personal 
consciousness of the Divine favor, and filled with zeal for 
the spiritual welfare of his fellow-men, he has recorded 
that " in preaching and praying he could spend a whole 

Thomas, his first child, and the subject of these memoirs, 
was bom at Cambridge, April, 1804. He was one of 
thirteen children, and of these children it may be said 
that the father was never surpassed by anyone in the 
pride and pleasure with which he looked on a table 
graded with a goodly shew of olive plants. Keenly alive 
to social and domestic joys, his thoughts, in whatever 
direction he might chance to be called, would always 
gather round his home and fireside. Of three sons and 
ten daughters, three only had been removed from the 
family circle at the time of his own decease. Hannah, 
perished by an accident while yet an infant of days. Ann, 
lived to the age of 21, and died by consumption, the 


consequence of a malady under which she had long 
suffered, finishing her course in triumphant peace and 
joy, August, 1826. Mary, dying a few months after, at 
the age of 20, had been imbecile from a child John, 
the son of his elder age, and the Benjamin of his father's 
affections, survived his parent about four years, and died in 
the ninth year of his age at Tuckingmill, near Camborne. 

At the time of his settlement at Cambridge his pastoral 
labors were mainly confined to the small society already 
referred to, at Porth-Towan; but he subsequently became 
more especially identified with the religious interests of 
Bridge, his birthplace, and only distant about half-a-mile 
from his residence. A small buUding had been erected as a 
Wesleyan place of worship in that village, taking its place 
as one of the preaching stations in the Redruth Circuit 
The house was small, rude, and incommodious, and it had 
been with him a long cherished desire to have it super- 
seded by a structure every way more worthy of its object 
In 1816 he had the high grat^cation of seeing this wish 
accomplished; a good and convenient chapel being 
raised, every way adequate to the wants of a tolerably 
populous neighbourhood. The opening services were 
conducted by ministers of high connexional repute, and, 
as a country preaching place, it was numbered with those 
to which were allotted the largest share in the labors of 
the regular Circuit pastors. 

In those days Cambridge was frequently the place of 
the preacher's entertainment when his duties called him 
into that part of the Circuit ; and its proprietor always 
welcomed the visit of the pastor to his dwelling as both a 
pleasure and honor of no ordinary character. The local 
preachers also, on whom a considerable part of the chapel 
services devolved, and who, if inferior in pulpit ability, 
had much the same kind of physical requirements as the 
stated ministers, came in for their share of his hospitality, 


and were sometimes additionally treated to a few hints 
on grammar by way of assisting them in their public per- 

But among the preacher guests at Cambridge there 
might at that time be occasionally seen a mah holding a 
somewhat anomalous position in the ministry, being 
neither found on the Conference Minutes nor on the 
Circuit Plan, nor, in fact, bearing with him any kind of 
ministerial credentials but those of a tacit recognition of 
his pulpit labours, principally through some districts in 
the west of Cornwall. Many a reader will remember the 
name of Richard Hampton, or more generally Dick 
Hampton, sometimes called the Cornish Fool, of whom 
some notice may not be inappropriate in this place. He 
was bom within a mile or two of Cambridge, and was 
known to Thomas Garland from a boy. He was one of 
a family in which the brothers were men of some mark in 
the religious society of the place, and of rather more than 
ordinary intelligence for the humble sphere in which they 
moved In Richard, save and except a strong family 
likeness of person, there was not the remotest resemblance 
to either of them. He was found as he grew up to be 
quick and shrewd in all matters of a religious character, 
while just as useless as a bom idiot in everything relating 
to handicraft At one time he was employed as an errand 
boy on the mine, and was afterwards taken to drive the 
horses on the Cambridge farm. The result was invariably 
the same — that he was a plague and incumbrance to 
everyone who had to do with him. On approaching 
manhood his thoughts seemed to be wholly engrossed by 
preaching. For such a work his qualifications, as far as 
education was concemed, would place him pretty nearly 
at the zero point ; but the class of congregations to which 
he purposed to devote his labors would neither make 
leamiag nor intellectual strength indispensable. He 


accordingly gave up once for all his abortive secular 
engagements, and commenced a county itinerancy, which 
only terminated within about three years of his death- 
At the period of middle age he presented, both in his 
personal appearance and ministerial character, a combina- 
tion of qualities not very easy to describe. He was short 
in stature, yet very corpulent, with a general look and 
expression in which the human and the porcine seemed to 
struggle for pre-eminence, and with a lack-lustre eye which 
yet was sluup and searching. He cared little for any 
kind of conversation, but was generally in the zenith of 
his happiness when rocking himself to and fro in his 
chaur by the fireside with a motion that kept time to an 
indescribable nasal melody with which he was accustomed 
to solace his reveries. His pulpit addresses were stentorian 
harangues, in which the matter was unobjectionable, 
though seldom indicating order or method, — ^the voice 
dry and husky, and apparently demanding great physical 
power to make it the medium of instructing an audience. 
Little as the casual hearer would discover in his preaching 
that seemed to promise much in the way of usefulness, it 
is certain that his periodical visits to the different localities 
were in many instances productive of good. Of this, one 
singular instance occurred at Devonport, the farthest 
limit, as it appears, of his joumeyings. A respectable 
tradesman of that town had been for some time under 
deep religious concern. He dreamed one night that he 
entered a small chapel in his neighbourhood, and heard 
from a very strange-looking preacher, neither known to 
him nor heard of before, a sermon which brought light 
and comfort to his soul. On the following day, which 
was the Sabbath, he directed his steps to the chapel 
referred to, and on entering saw in the pulpit the very 
man of his dream. The word of the preacher exactly 
met his case ; he rejoiced in his knowledge of forgiveness 


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deeding from the same hand, they may be summed up in 
journals and sermons. The journals were kept with some 
regularity for several years, but discontinued for a consider- 
able time before his deatL The sermons were prepared 
with a good deal of care, an outline being written suffi- 
ciently copious to contain the general substance of the 
discourse. On very rare occasions he called in the Muses 
to assist in the production of some rhymes to celebrate an 
incident which household matters or a journey might 
happen to originate. He was fond of readmg, but a busy 
and laborious life which had passed its best years for intel- 
lectual cultivation without the means of study, left him to 
the last with few books, and those not of a class to make 
much figure in the literary world. In his library might be 
found Wesley's Sermons and Journals, the Arminian and 
Methodist Magazines for some forty years in succession, 
Fletcher's Works, Benson's Commentary and Memoirs, 
Green's Concordance, The Whole Duty of Man, with 
others of kindred character. Among these was a volume 
of Herve/s Meditations, " done into blank verse " by a 
distant relative on his wife's side, who to the general 
business of cabinet-making added the pursuits of a poet 
He had met with Mr. Hervey's celebrated work, and was 
touched with its sepulchral beauty and tenderness. It 
struck him at once that if these Meditations were so 
charming in their prose condition they would be music 
itself when reduced to metre ; and to metre he accordingly 
reduced them. Diverging from the common policy of 
great poets, who compose slowly and with a good deal 
of retouching, he closed his workshop and sat down to 
his task, not quitting the work, except for such brief 
intervals as food and sleep imperatively demanded, for 
three days and three nights, until, in his own emphatic 
language, *^ the whole mass was transposed." The public, 
however, have always preferred the book in its original 


form, though the subscribers, as in duty bouod, took their 

The owner of the miniature library at Cambridge did 
not rate this production or its original very highly. With 
no pretensions to what is called literary taste, he was well 
endowed with that strong, manly sense which discriminates 
what is sterling and valuable in books from that which is 
showy and sentimental. In ^t, his natural capacity for 
acquiring the accomplishments of a well-educated man 
could not, for the reason before mentioned, be justly 
estimated by such books or such book-knowledge as he 
actually possessed. Nor, had he brought to his secluded 
dwelling the amplest stores of learning, would they, except 
as a personal gratification, have been half as valuable to 
him as were those more useful qualifications which caused 
him to be looked up to for counsel and assistance by the 
people of an extended neighbourhood. His social and 
general character, the uncompromising fidelity with which 
all his business engagements were carried out, and his 
readiness at all times to meet such claims as public or 
private necessity made on his personal influence or pecu- 
niaiy resources, attached to his name a respect and affection 
not to be obtained by any other means. To this subject 
we shall have again to refer in the course of these pages. 



It has been stated that Thomas Garland, the eldest son, 
was bom at Cambridge, near Redruth, in April, 1804. 
Of his earliest years, nothing is known to the writer as 
being; of interest to any beyond the family circle, nor can 
much be said of those first scholastic days which are 
generally marked by some striking indications in the case 
of those who acquire a name in after life. There was not 
wanting in the more immediate neighbourhood a full 
supply of such seminaries of learning as in those days were 
deemed highly proper for awakening the germ of thought 
in the tender mind. Within a circle of less than two miles 
radius from the family dwelling, might then be found 
some half-ardozen establishments, in which the very young 
of both sexes were taught those rudiments of kn^ledge 
with which the mightiest intellects must all begin. At 
present, that number is almost reduced to unity, and as 
the population is more than treble, it might be inferred 
that the march of education has slackened even faster 
than society has numerically progressed. Such a con- 
clusion, however, would be wide of the mark. The schools 
now spoken of were, with one exception, in the extremest 
sense of the word, "preparatory;" and they were con- 
ducted by dames who blended their duties as instructors 
of youth, with other duties devolving on them as the heads 
of families. The almost universal spread of cheap and 
yet sound elementary education, which marks the present 
period, has almost annihilated this class of school teachers, 
who in fact knew nothing but the simplest elements of 
learning, and had no object beyond that of eking out a 
small addition to their means of living. Of those now 

lo MMMOiR or 

iiiuiud to^ it is ocrtain that not ODe of them had ever 
been hoDored vith an intnxhictaoQ to Lindlej Mnnay, 
nor loiev whedier Nev^OGiKilaiid was an island of America 

or a town in Fiance. In the «aj of ^oics diey <Ud 
nodong, and few mortals had been so highly privileged as 

to see the character of their handwriting. Some were the 
wives of invalided husbands^ whose contribiitions to the 
general bnsiEiess consisted mainly in taking charge of the 
school one afternoon in the we^ while the principal 
took her basket and set oat for the market town. It so 
ha^ypened that scMne of us — for what reason, can hardly 
now be remembered — passed through almost the entire 
round of these seminaries, and there is still a recdlection 
of the temporary stagnation in scholastic af&irs, which in 
one of them was occasioned once every wedL by the 
palpable incapacity of the male teacher. This under- 
graduate was sure to be in a dilemma before he had got 
half way into the reading lesscms ; most words of three 
syllabl&y unless of a tolerably familiar character, bringing 
him at once to a dead lock; a state of things not edifying 
to ourselves, and humiliating to him, horn his conscious- 
ness that we had but smaU respect for his literary attain- 
ments So many of these refractory words were OMnpelled 
to stand over until the higher authority appeared, that all 
connection was broken up, and there was nodiing that 
could be called a true concatenation of ideas. Of these 
seminaries, however, the one remembered with most 
peculiar feeling was that which contained a husband, not 
merely invalided, but who had for some years been bed 
ridden* In a small chamber on the right hand of the 
staunray, which had the school-room at its left, on the 
ground floor, was this mysterious personage located Yes, 
to us, mysterious ; for none of us liad ever seen him, nor 
ever heard him, with the exception of a slight groan which 
now and then seemed to escape fr^om his domicile. We 


bad caught no articulate words, we had witnessed no sort 
of communication between him and other mortals, except 
that two or three times a day, we saw his wife — of whose 
relationship to him our notions were not at all distinct — 
stealing quiedy up to his room. How long he had been 
there, what it was that kept him there, how his time was 
occupied, were all subjects on which we were profoundly 
ignorant, and the contemplation of which filled us with 
wonder and awe. The undefinable dread with which he 
inspired us, was turned by the schoolmistress to some 
good account It effectually served to keep her pupils in 
decent order, for if any young rebel was proof against 
other means of correction, one thing was sure to prevail, 
— the threat of being taken up stairs and made to confront 
him bodily, — ^an ordeal that not one of us would have 
dared for everything the world had to give. Of his true 
character, we knew as little when we left the school, as 
when we entered it, and it was some years afterwards that 
a ray of light broke upon the darkness, when Sunday after 
Sunday, a. messenger came to our house, and took with 
her a mess for some invalid, who turned out to be no 
other than the once dreaded man of the school-house. 
To minds accustomed to regard him with such wondering 
terror, it would be a relief to find that he was so much 
like other men, as to require meat and drink ; that his 
health was sometimes better and sometimes worse ; and 
that in various other respects he resembled the general 
race of mankind. And when, shortly after, we were told 
that he was actually dead and buried — ^that he had been 
quietly laid down with the sleepers in Illogan church-yard 
— ^the illusion was fairly dispelled. 

The highest grade in this order of juvenile instructors 
was held by one to whose care an aristocratic lady had 
committed a certain number of pupils to be taught at her 
own expense ; but with liberty to take other children, 


whose parents were in circumstances to pay for them. 
Her school, being on premises entirely distinct from her 
dwelling-house, in a large upper room, mounted by a 
formidable flight of steps, was something to throw com- 
paratively into the shade the establishments of her 
contemporaries. There were, however, some drawbacks 
which we, who knew not the line of demarcation that 
parted the two classes of pupils, could not but regard as 
exceedingly vexatious. On various occasions, the charity 
children were distinguished by some peculiar marks of 
attention to which we — of the paying department — 
seemed to have no title whatever. At certain periods, an 
official would present himself, to take down the names 
of the children who, on a given day, would have to be 
conducted to a neighboring mansion, taken through the 
grounds, and regaled with a handsome provision of tea 
and cake. Sad, indeed, it was to find, that in calling over 
these favoured names, no mention was made of our own* 
We were the non-elect, mysteriously passed over, while 
others every way beneath us in their birth, parentage, 
and outward respectability, were called to partake of these 
pleasures. Worst of all it was, after the great day was over, 
to listen to the privileged parties while they expatiated on 
the varied delights of the festival, in a manner almost calcu- 
lated to draw tears of indignation from those who had 
neither part nor lot in the matter. 

To what extent the subject of these memoirs had 
profited by this class of scholastic professions, is a ques- 
tion involved in some obscurity. His education, in the 
higher sense of the term, was carried on in a neighboring 
village, imder a schoolmaster who, as matters then went, 
enjoyed some considerable reputation. Reading, writing, 
arithmetic, and book-keeping, with probably something 
of grammar and geography, entered into the course of 
instruction; and that these branches of learning w«re not 


superficially dealt with, may be argued from the fact that 
when the reading-classes were called up diey were, before 
proceedings commenced, stricdy enjoined to mind their 
pron^^nciation. He was a religious professor among the 
Wesleyans, with whom he occasionally officiated as a local 
preacher, and being deemed a somewhat expert account- 
ant, generally employed in preparing the balance sheets 
of the small tradesmen in the district, he derived from 
his secular and spiritual influence ai character of some 

At the period now spoken of, there had just occurred 
in Cornwall one of the most extraordinary religious 
movements that this county had ever known, and which 
is generally termed " the great Revival of 181 4." It was 
a time when there was spread over a vast district a general 
spiritual awakening, and, when in the absence of any means 
which were visibly connected with such a result, thousands 
were compelled, by an apparendy irresistible power, to 
seek the salvation of their souls. In no place was this 
movement more strikingly displayed than at Redruth, 
where for weeks in succession, the Wesleyan chapel was 
open day and night in behalf of those who sought instruc- 
tion and consolation for their wounded spirits. It is not 
our object to go into any discussion as to the spiritual 
character and value of these '^revivals." By some parties 
they have been condemned and ridiculed as mere out- 
bursts of popular frenzy and fanaticism. Quiet and easy 
gping churchmen were shocked and scandalized by such 
irr^ular and disorderly proceedings; while the more calm 
and sedate class of dissenters knew not what to make of 
it The most impartial and tmprejudiced could not but 
r^;ret that, with what they regarded as good and sound 
in the work was blended so much of what was merely 
mental and physical excitement It is also certain — and 
the fatct is wordiy of grave consideration — ^that, immense 


as was the increase to the church on this occasion, it was 
found, on comparing at a subsequent period the number 
of members through a given series of years before and 
after the Revival, that the Revival itself had added little 
if anything to the average increase in other years. This 
fact, however, is by no means inexplicable, on the assump- 
tion that such religious awakenings were genuine and 
scriptural ; and another fact, worth a score of theories, 
still remains, — ^that great nimibers of those who dated 
their first spiritual impressions from the occasion alluded 
to, gave to the great moral change of which they pro- 
fessed to be the subjects, the highest testimony that 
blameless lives and happy deaths can afford. Of the 
young converts then added to the Wesleyan church, 
Thomas Garland was one; and the writer has been 
assured on authority whidi may be deemed unques- 
tionable, that he was at the time the subject of a troe 
conversion. He carried his new religious zeal into the 
village school, and assembled the boys to hold prayer- 
meetings with them at the noon-day interval between the 
school hours. But, as with most of those young and 
inexperienced persons who know nothing of religion as a 
life of faith distinguished from feeling, this ardour soon 
abated. He quitted the school where for some time he 
had acted as the evangelist, and was either directly or 
within a very short period transferred to Bodmin. 

The object of his parents in this removal was that of 
placing him in a si±ool of a higher character, and giving 
him at the same time the advantage of residing with his 
aunt, the wife of a Wesleyan minister then '^travelling" 
as it was called, in the Bodmin ''circuit" He had been 
but a few years in the public ministry, and belonged to a 
race of preachers who at the period before us wei% much 
more numerous in the Wesleyan church than at present 
It was a time when Methodism had a greater amount of 


rough work to get through, when the field of labor allotted 
to a minister was much more widely extended, and when 
the accomplishments of scholarship and a sound education 
had small weight in the balance, compared with robust 
health and persevering devotion to his duties. He had 
been trained among the Cornish miners in the West, was 
married and had become the father of a family before the 
conviction settled on his mind that he was called to enter 
the ministry. For such a work, he was in some respects 
ill qualified ; of school education he had received next to 
nothing. He felt it, however, incumbent on him to 
remedy this defect as far as it lay in his power, and justly 
considered that one of the very foremost duties was to 
leain to speak his mother tongue with correctness. 
He accordingly procured a grammar, and gave to the 
study of its pages the most conscientious and earnest 
attention. But its difficulties were more serious than he 
had imagined, and as the mystery of the subject darkened 
round him he became so bewildered that he was almost 
driven to the verge of despair. Day after day he paced 
the sands of the neighbouring sea shore, and with the open 
grammar in his hand implored the spirit of illumination 
to be shed upon its intricate and perplexing paragraphs. 
How far he succeeded in mastering the science of the 
language does not appear ; it is certain, however, that his 
Dublic speaking was open to no objection excepting that 
of its broad Cornish provincialisms, which he never got 
rid of. The position to which he eventually attained 
as a pulpit speaker was highly respectable. His natural 
powers were far above mediocrity. He was shrewd, 
intelligent, and gifted with a far-reaching capacity for 
grasping the common sense of a subject As his reading 
and studies became almost entirely biblical, there was 
hardly a question in the whole range of polemical divinity 
which had not come under his thoughts, or on which he 

1 6 MEMOIR or 

was not prepared to give at a minute's notice the most 
unqualified opinion. He had small suspicion of being 
troubled with fallibility. Though all unread in ecclesias- 
tical history, and innocent as a child of that Scripture 
knowledge which depends upon Greek and Hebrew, he 
would at no time have scrupled to engage single-handed 
a whole college of Oxford tractarians. He was, moreover, 
a divine who could turn every part of the Old and New 
Testaments to some account No text came amiss to 
him. His eye could discern the dear rivulets of doctrinal 
truth in places where ordinary theologians beheld nothing 
but a desert wilderness. " A sea, and twelve oxen under 
the sea," was a specimen of those passages on which he 
would fluently expatiate to the wonder and admiration of 
his hearers. If this be deemed at variance with what has 
been said respecting his naturally sound judgment, it must 
be remembered that he was no disciple of Origen — ^not 
one to make an ingenious exposition of Scripture pass for 
the direct teaching of the Sacred Oracles. In fact, no 
man could be less of a visionary ; but he delighted in 
shewing what could be said on texts which certainly to 
the less practised dialectician seemed to contain the very 
minimum of anything that could be called Gospel doctrine. 
The preparation of his sermons was, for the most part, a 
piurely mental process, pen and ink being rather the objects 
of his aversion. As a scribe, indeed, he was always far 
in the background, his handwriting being none of the 
choicest, and his orthography not conformed to tiiat of 
the best writers. Of the latter fact he was perfectly aware, 
and although not nice to a point in matters of ^miliar 
correspondence, he never ventured into the wide seas of 
literature without the guidance of those trustworthy pilots 
of whom Walker and Webster are the representatives. 
Long practice in mental sermonizing gave him such 
readiness in planning a discourse, that preachers who had 


spent many years in die woik were not r^arded by him 
as giving fiill proof of their ministry if they required more 
than seven minutes to get up a new sermorL He generally 
labored hard in the pulpit, and after preaching in a dose 
chapel to a crowded audience, would come into his house 
as ready for a thorough change of raimoit as if he had 
been plunged into a river. 

The time of the young pupil passed away pleasantly 
under the care of his relatives, to whom in some respects 
his advancing studies did good service, especially where 
the labors of a competent scribe were required in such 
matters as devolved on the superintendent of a Wesleyan 
circuit One of the various departments of usefulness to 
which he was called was that of making a copy of the 
Circuit *^ plan," or the sheet which was issued every three 
months containing the appointments of the itinerant and 
local preachers at the different chapels in the district 
Of this Plan it was every way desirable that the draught 
as it came from the hand of the Superintendent should be 
neady copied to prepare it for the press. It was said 
that in the performance of this work the copyist some- 
times exceeded his commission. Whether it was the 
result of carelessness, or a premature tampering with eccle- 
siastical matters, it was found that several of the appointr 
ments on the printed plan were sadly at variance with 
the capacities of the brethren to whom they were allotted. 
Old and venerable stagers, whose physical powers forbade 
their attending any but the nearest chapels, were called 
upon to gird up their loins and post away to the farthest 
limits of a large circuit, while preachers of the smallest 
m^tal calibre were in* danger of being brought face 
to face with the largest and most intelligent congregations. 

The departure of his relative to another sphere of 
ministerial labour was nearly contemporaneous with his 
own relinquishment of scholastic studies, 

1 8 MEMOIR or 


From the time of his leaving school his principal occupa- 
tion for several years was that of a writer at the mine. 
The selection of such an employment was not unnaturally 
the consequence of his father's business being mainly 
comprised in mining pursuits, with which from a boy he 
had been familiar. The latter, however, had been a prac- 
tical miner, working for a long time as a common under- 
ground laborer, and acquiring by dint of industry and 
observation, the qualifications necessary for that higher 
sphere of agency which with less labor brought far better 
remuneration. For the former, nothing of this kind was 
thought of, the book-keeping department at the counting- 
house being his sole province. On these grounds it may 
be a question as to the soundness of the policy which, in 
the case of a youth who at that period must have given 
indication of more than ordinary intelligence, chooses for 
him a line of business in which the mind can do nothing 
more tiian work out the principles of arithmetic. What- 
ever work was thus done could be done with equal 
success by others on whom nature had bestowed no gifts 
for a higher vocation ; and although the hours devoted to 
such labor leave in most cases abundant leisure for 
reading and study, the fact that no mental exertion is 
necessitated by the calling itself, leaves it to youthful 
discretion whether the time which literature can command 
shall be devoted to what is substantial or frivolous. Nor 
is it the least unfortunate characteristic of such an employ- 
ment, that it entirely lacks that disciplinary system which 
attends the same kind of occupation in great mercantile 
and similar establisliments. The mine clerk had a certain 


quantum of accounts to be posted up by a certain day ; 
provided that were done, he was pretty much his own 
master as to what hours or days he thought proper to 
attend the counting-house. Even as to this employment, 
it was destitute of that stimulus which generally in others 
calls forth industry and energy — ^the hope of rising to 
higher and more lucrative position. Some progress in this 
direction was certainly allowed, for the wages with which 
the young clerjc commenced his labors were not unfre- 
quently such as could not be expressed by any metallic 
or paper currency of the realm, and which, in sheer com- 
passion to the reader's gravity, had better not be mentioned 
at all. As his labor became more valuable his wages 
would begin to assume a natural name, but not much 
time was required to reach the point at which all further 
expectation was at an end. For tiie best that circum- 
stances could require was now done; the accounts had 
nothing of that complex character which demanded book- 
keeping of a high order and with high wages. 

Nor could it be said that what was wanting in such 
advantages was compensated by anything favorable to 
higher considerations. In the matter alluded to a very 
considerable change has taken place from the period now 
under notice ; but, at that time, to a young man with the 
world before him, the scenes and associations connected 
with a mine clerkship were not very favorable to the 
development of the best qualities. It was a most unde- 
sirable school for any who wished to acquire habits of 
Spartan temperance or wise economy. There were fre- 
quently-recurring periodical seasons of high festivity and 
exuberant mirth ; more especially on the days when the 
bi-monthly dividends were declared, and when the fortu- 
nate gentlemen who attended in the capacity of share- 
holders might occasionally be seen on their way homeward 
in a state of exhilaration which made it very difficult for 


them to distinguish the four points of the compass. The 
mishaps and strange adventures to which such parties 
were now and then subjected, would, if the mining tradi- 
tions were investigated, furnish many a fact of the most 
ridiculous description. But, with some very serious draw- 
backs, there was much in the whole S3rstem generative of 
what was kindly and social; and there were certain 
seasons when persons of both sexes met for a gala day 
on the spot where all business was for the time held in 
abeyance. It brings to remembrance an occasion when 
the writer, then a lad, was present at a gathering, when 
at a certain hour of the day all the parties, with the 
exception of his brother and himself, had quitted the 
scene. We lingered for some time, not aware that a 
heavy storm was impending and that a fearful night was 
coming on. The rain, which soon came down and 
gradually increased in violence, made it impossible to 
stir from the place ; and as the night rapidly fell we were 
obliged to resolve ourselves into a committee of ways and 
means as to the best method of passing the time in our 
present quarters. A workman from the mine was called 
in, and he speedily commenced operations. Selecting for 
oiu: apartment a large upper room generally used as a 
changing room, an immense fire was soon kindled, and 
every preparation effected by which a condition that at 
first threatened to be disagreeable yielded every comfort 
that could well be desired. Elegances there were none ; 
it was not just the place for them. Neither was there a 
bed to be had, — ^nothing, at least, which generally goes 
by that name. But there was a well-stocked cupboard, 
and a noble fire in the grate, and in a comer of the clerk's 
desk were a few books, among which were Hogg's Winter 
Evening Tales. It could never have entered into the . 
imagination of the Ettrick Shepherd that his wild stories 
would be devoured with greater gusto than they were that 


night by the three parties whose chairs were drawn around 
the blazing hearth, and who had all the pleasure of con- 
trasting the snugness of their cosy domicile with the wild 
elemental uproar that was raging without I have said 
that there were three parties to this entertainment, for, 
considering the eminent services which the wortman had 
rendered, aftd the especial value of additional company on 
such an occasion, it was thought every way e}q>edient that 
for the time he should be placed on an equal footing with 
more select company; and, being of a very chatty and 
jocose turn, he entered ireely into the spirit of the hour, 
and was not at all backward in expressing his sense of 
Mr. Hogg's literary merit 

The general reading of those days was not without its 
share of that intellectual entertainment the supply of 
which at the present time is so copious that it baffles all 
calculation as to what effect it will have on the public 
mind In the monthly parcel which found its way to 
Cambridge for the especi^d use of T. Garland, Jun.,-^or 
the elder had nothing to do with monthly book-parcels, — 
were two or three periodicals which at that time enjoyed 
a good share of popularity, though long since gone to the 
land of forgetfidness. Whatever the merits of these 
periodicals might be, they could at least only make their 
appearance twelve times in the year. The railway was 
still a thing of the future, and die weekly press which 
now pours its effusions into every comer of the land was 
neither known nor imagined The difference in the 
travelling system of that period, as compared with the 
day of locomotives, may be illustrated by the circumstance 
that the bookseller who supplied the young reader at 
Cambridge had the pleasure at one time of informing his 
customers that, in consequence of some very successful 
business arrangements, he could now depend on receiving 
the L(Hidon monthly parcel not later dian the fourteenth 
day of the month. 


The serials, such as they were, divided the time with 
some standard English authors. One disadvantage, how- 
ever, was connected with his literary pursuits at home : 
he had no one who could read or study with him. As far 
as this deficiency could be met, it was met by his intimacy 
with a young man, a relative, about his own age, and 
living at a short distance from him. They became in every 
sense of the word attached companions, and cherished a 
confidential intercourse in which everything relating to 
their secular or intellectual afifairs was unreservedly dis- 
cussed. In all the general qualities which form a character 
of more than average promise and excellence, his young 
fiiend was exemplary; manly, intelligent, keenly alive to 
all that gives dignity and respectability to outward deport- 
ment, and ardently devoted to mental cultivation. The 
ties of this early and close fiiendship were suddenly and 
rudely severed by one of those mysterious dispensations 
of Him who " giveth no account of His matters." They 
were both passing through a village in which a malignant 
fever was raging, and both, soon after reaching their 
respective homes, were attacked by the distemper. On 
his young relative the disease fastened at once with such 
a power that he expressed himself as death-struck, and 
hardly indulging a single hope of recovery, took to his bed, 
firom which in a few days he was carried to his grave. It 
was an affecting instance of a youth of high hopes and 
promise smitten in the midst of his brightest expectations ; 
and to those who had been associated with him it was the 
recording of a solemn testimony as to the necessity of 
something greater than natural gifts or mental acquire- 
ments to sustain the spirit when the final change is 
approaching. In that hour of trial he found that lifers 
real business was comprised in a work which had been 
comparatively overlooked amid the fascinating pursuits 
his time had been given to, and that among the many 


books that lay on his shelves there was one, and only 
one, which held all the treasures of wisdom and know- 
ledge. On Thomas Garland the effect of the epidemic 
was but partial. He was confined to his room for a short 
time, and on a bright Sabbath morning, when he had yet 
scsu-cely risen from a feverish bed, the sounding of the 
distant church bell told him that he from whom he had 
lately parted not again to meet on earth, was then borne 
to his last resting-place.* 

With recovered health and spirits, matters very soon 
resumed their usual course, though a loss had been sus- 
tained which nothing but the lapse of years could remedy. 
He turned again to his books — the books on which his 
pen was employed, and which, in the language of one of 
his favorite authors, contained writings of great importance, 
great interest, and great durability, even though the writers 
themselves are not known to the world as authors. We 
allude to those bulky folios where the accounts are kept, 
and which, whatever else in literature is neglected, must 
be attended to with the strictest punctuality. But at this 
dme several efforts had been made in the way of compo- 
sition of a different sort He had attempted poetry, and 
what he had done in that direction gave him the impres- 
sion that he was capable of rising to some considerable 
altitude on the mount of song. Among his monthly 
journals previously referred to was a publication which at 
that day made some figure in the literary world, — — -'s 

* " At Portreatb, in lUogan, on Wednesday last (March 9, 1825), in 
his 26th year, Mr. John Phillips, Jun. Placed in the middle station of 
life, he poeaeaaed yirtues which would have adorned the highest ; and 
in the dischai^g^ of his duties he was exemplary for diligence, ability, 
and inflexible integrity. The gentleness of his disposition and suavity 
of his manners endeared him to everyone; and the few who were 
favored with his friendship have been bereaved of an inestimable 
pleasure. He suffered a short but severe illness with Christian forti- 
tude, and breathed his last with a pious resignation to the will of the 
Almighty.''— CkwAtfo^/ OautU. 


Pocket Magazine. It was issued at sixpence a number, 
and furnished its readers with articles in prose and poetry, 
chiefly original, though occasionally selected from other 
works. It had tales, essays, anecdotes, epigrams, jeux 
d'esprit, poems pathetic and humorous ; and tiie fly-sheet 
was the vehicle of a mass of editorial correspondence 
such as the proudest magazines of this day do not pretend to 
equal. The staff of contributors were a rather motley com- 
pany, some c^ whom, though fully alive to the great talent 
they possessed, did not object, when their own inspiration 
was at a low ebb, to append their names to the composi- 
tions of others. The editor was troubled by these pla- 
giarisms, for as his own extent of reading was not suflicient 
for detecting the delinquent, his being indebted to other 
parties for the discovery was humbling both to himself 
and his magazine. One young gentleman, signing himself 
" J. D. H.," had the coolness to send for insertion as an 
original poem the fine verses of Herbert Klnowles, written 
in a churchyard, and beginning widi, ^'Methinks it is 
good to be here.*' These were accordingly printed, and 
all that could be dcme when the borrowed plimies were 
discovered was to give the offender a severe castigation 
the following month, compelling him, of course, to retire 
into the shades.* The magazine, with many defects, had 

* The subject of plagiarism brings to remembranoe an awkward 
affair in which T. G. himself was concerned. About the period under 
notice he had aoddentally met with Southey's poem of *' The Battle of 
Blenheim/' and stnidc with its simple beauty sent a copy of it to the 
T<yiUh*» Intiructor, a London Wesleyan periodical^ reconunending it to 
the editor as rnj suitable for his pages. By a curious inadvertence 
the name, T, Oadand, /im., with whi(^ the letter was signed, was 
affixed to the poem itself, and when the magazine duly appeared, the 
writer, to his no smaU astonishment, saw that he was brought before 
the public as the professed author of " The Battle of Blenheim.'* Of 
course no time was lost in setting himself right with the editor, but it 
was sufficiently mortifying' to find that another month must necessartly 
elapse before the readers of the periodical — many of whom might hare 
detected the seemingly daring plagiarism— could be apprised of the 


a good deal of pleasant reading, and it was marked by 
one attractive feature hardly to be expected. at such a 
period. Every number had an engraving of great excel- 
lence from the burine of an eminent artist, designed to 
illustrate some select passage from the works of the most 
popular English poets. In saying that every number had 
this embellishment, we must not be understood too liter- 
ally ; it will be nearer the mark to state that every number 
was expected to have it The editorial pen had frequently 
to be employed in furnishing the public with ingenious 
reasons for the absence of the plates; there were so many 
lets and hindrances in the way of their punctual delivery; 
the engraver himself was pressed by so much other busi- 
ness, and had not the time requisite to give them the 
highest degree of finish, — ^and so forth. These excuses 
went down with the good-natured and sympathising part 
of his readers ; but there were not wanting many whisper- 
ing and meddlesome tongues so void of delicacy as to 
insinuate that there would be no difficulty at all in getting 
the engravings if certain considerations of commercial 
importance were on a more satisfactory footing between 
the publisher and the engraver. The magazine under 
notice was, it is believed, the first that bore the name of 
T. Garland, Jun., Illogan, Cornwall, attached to sundry 
poetical contributions, many of which were also printed 
in one of the county newspapers. A glance at some of 
these, which will shortly be given for the reader's edfica- 
tion, will shew that whatever indication they give of 
inunature poetical thought, their rhythm and musical 
cadence are quite in keeping with that finish of language 
by which his later compositions, whether precomposed or 
extemporaneous, were invariably marked. They have 
few uncouth expressions or bad liiymes ; the flow of the 
versification being generally smooth and easy. I do not 
pretend to explain the izxX that for several years, while 


serials of higher mark were successively making their 
appearance, there seemed to be no attempt at making a 
literary acquaintance with them, until about the year 1826 
it struck him that a poem entitled " My Birthday," and 
which was thought to be far ahead of anything with 
which the Muses had hitherto inspired him, might not be 
altogether unworthy the pages of — Blackwood ! It must 
certainly have been after many careful balancings of the 
chances for and against insertion that it was eventually 
decided to forward this poem for the inspection of Chris- 
topher North. Blackwood was at that time approaching 
the zenith of its power and popularity, with no rival 
to dispute its supremacy in the world of magazines. 
Its columns being filled by the smartest writers of the 
day, there was not much probability that a Pocket 
Magazine contributor would find favor with it The 
editor held no communication with any correspondents 
but those who were expressly engaged for his periodical, 
and the Birthday Poem after its despatch through 
the Redruth post-office, was heard of no more. The 
author, however, was at this time very much disposed to 
insist upon it that his productions in this line should 
occupy a tolerably high position in the world of literature, 
if the public were to get them at alL Another experi- 
ment was to be tried. There appeared by the winter 
fireside on the setting in of the dark November nights, 
some of those fairy and delicate creations, the Annuals ; 
so beautiful as they emerged firom the tasteful envelopes 
in their dresses of silk and gold, that it seemed as if none 
but angel hands were worthy to touch them. The poet's 
mind was in due time made up, — ^he would send some 
stanzas to the Literary Souvenir^ then under the editor- 
ship of Alaric Watts. In truth, the ambition of appearing 
in one of the Annuals was far firom unpardonable ; for 
though at first it seemed very natural to suppose that 


their external splendor was a mere index to the intellec- 
tual material within, it was soon discovered that this 
conclusion was by no means a safe one. The most costly 
and brilliant of these books had sometimes hardly any- 
thing to recommend them but the consunmiate artistic 
beauty with which they were got up; their literary contents 
being mainly fiumished by writers of title rather than 
talent, — grand lords and ladies, of whose prose and poetry 
the general reading world had never heard before, and 
probably never wished to hear again. The Souvmir 
was one of the best of its class, the name of its conductor 
being a guarantee that it should not be altogether 
unworthy of public favor. Another poem, then, was duly 
concocted and forwarded to head quarters, but, alas — 

• » ♦ • gyg^j Peri'8 hopes are vain ; 
Again the Fates forbade ; again 
The immortal barrier closed. " Not yet," 
The angel said, as with regret 
• He shut her ^m che glimpse of gloiy, — 

The letter, with the poetry inclosed in it, was returned 
by the Editor, probably with thanks, — those thanks which, 
under such circumstances, are seldom much relished. 

Of the two poetical performances which thus brought 
disappointment to their author, the general merit of the 
one which was rejected by the northern magazine, was 
quite equal to that of many poems which had found their 
way into its pages. But the quoting of the first stanza 
will explain any mystery attaching to this subject : 

" Let others hail their day of birth 
With festal glee, and dance, and song ; 
And dedicate its hours to mirth — 
To me, far other thoughts belong : 
To me it tells of pleasures gone ; 
Of hopes that only bloomed to die ; 
And one more year swept wave like on 
To thy dark shores. Eternity ! " 


The unfortunate third line in this verse — an insipid 
repetition of what is expressed in the first and second — 
would be quite enough to seal the fate of the whole. As 
to the other — the unsuccessful candidate for Annual 
honors, its subject was that of a pathetic expostulation 
with a young man for devoting himself to the cultivation 
of poetry. 

"And wilt thou twine the Minstrers wreath. 
And bind it round thy honoured brow f 
Beware! ♦ • ♦ ♦ 

« « • • « 

• • • ♦ ♦ 

Twine not the wreath ; for, like the bow 

That glitters in the vaulted sky. 

Its brilliant colors only show 

That dark and withering storms are nigh." 

The reasons for giving this young man — ^whether a real 
or imaginary personage — a friendly warning to beware of 
studying the poetic art, might be manifold. It would take 
up too much of his time, unfit him for his business, excite 
passionate desires of a fame not, after all, to be obtained, 
expose him to the mortification of returned letters, &c. 
Still, there was something rather incongruous in adopting 
poetry as the medium for conveying such a warning. .Nor 
can much be said for the concluding lines, in which the 
rainbow is held up as iht precursor of storms, — a doctrine 
so glaringly opposed to all recognized principles of 
meteorology, that not the highest poetic license can make 
it pass muster. It was too much a kin to another poem 
which was not destined to appear in print, and which 
commenced with 

''Dark was the night ; the moon shone bright, 
When the lorers bade f areweU ; ** 

and which, though well enough for the columns of an 
Hibernian magazine, would only offend the orthodoxy 
of Engli sh readers. 


Among the youthful writers who are accustomed to 
enrich the pages of the cheap monthlies with their com- 
positions, there are probably but few to whom it has not 
at some time occurred to try their hand at a tale. Our 
young contributor to the Pocket Magazine appears to have 
made an essay in this line, from some manuscript sheets 
which turned up many years ago. The work, however, 
was either left incomplete, or some portion of the manu- 
script was wanting. There is no reason to suppose that 
it ever appeared in print The tale was intended to be a 
pathetic love story, of which the hero's name is forgotten, 
but the heroine was a certain Miss Williams. They were 
both English, but of what town or county cannot now be 
decided. She was, as were all young ladies who figured 
in love stories, incomparably beautiful in person, highly 
endowed and accomplished in mind, and a pattern of all 
the virtues. He, was all that the reader should reasonably 
expect in a young man destined to become this lady's 
accepted lover. They had both arrived at adult years 
before they fell in each other's way, and it was highly 
expedient that when this momentous circumstance occtured 
it should have an interest worthy of the two parties and of 
their after fortunes. In present times, authors manage to 
bring about an introduction in a much more prosy and 
unsentimental manner; but the reader hardly needs to be 
informed that half a century ago, or even at a date con- 
siderably later, it was the general rule that no hero of a 
tale should meet the future lady of his affections except 
as her deliverer from some dreadful peril So it was in 
the case before us. The fair one was walking out with 
her father on a fine spring morning, enjoying the natural 
beauties of the scenery around them, and especially 
pleased with some early flowers that were growing near 
the edge of a deep river, whose steep banks should have 
cautioned her against any attempt to gather them. But 


the perilous experiment was made, and in endeavouring 
to grasp one flower of peculiar beauty, this paragon of 
loveliness and virtue had the misfortune to lose her 
balance and go plump into the river. Now was the time 
for our hero, who had all this while been approaching 
from the opposite point of the compass, and who, without 
a moment's hesitation, sprang forward and plunged into 
the wave. The lady was rescued ; and as to all the rest, 
— ^who needs to be told that an acquaintance thus com- 
menced must find them virtually pledged to each other 
at the very outset ? Days, weeks, months, passed away 
in the enjoyment of all that the present could give or the 
future promise, when some time before the nuptual cere- 
monies could take place, it was necessary that the lover 
should take a journey by sea, — ^probably to look after 
some property in the West Indies. The expedition was 
most disastrous. The ship in which he sailed was chased 
by an Algerine corsair, the captain, crew, and passengers, 
himself included, were all made prisoners, all taken on 
shore, all put under strong guard, and all subjected to an 
apparently hopeless captivity. Here it is that the manu- 
script leaves him. How, and under what circumstances 
his liberation was effected, or whether he ever got out at 
all, — ^though for the credit of the tale, we cannot suppose 
otherwise, — ^is a matter which the reader's imagination 
must settle for himself. 

The following poems, selected from a number mostly 
written between the age of sixteen and twenty-four, will be 
sufficient for the reader's entertainment, and will enable 
him to judge as to what degree of excellence in the 
poetic art the writer might probably have attained. 



Ok ! no, lovely Sylvia, I cannot foii^ thee, — 

Ofb memory recalls the endearments of love, 
When with rapturous gases of joy I first met thee. 

More fair than the shades from the howers ahove. 

More sweet than the breeses that waft o'er yon mountains. 
From the trees of whose tops they steal spicy perfumes ; 

More pure than the waters that flow from yon fountains. 
Refreshed by whose streamlets the love flower blooms. 

More beauteous than May, when the skies are unclouded. 
You caused in my heart such a thrill of delight. 

As heaven's bright queen when from darkness unshxx>uded. 
In splendor breaks forth and illumines the night. 

How ofb have we seen the soft dews of the morning 

Exhaled by the orb of EfFulgenoe divine ; 
Just so, to tiie nymph who her sex was adorning, 

My heart in an instant was forced to resign. 

Oh I the misery I felt — oh 1 the depth of my anguish, 

When my Sylvia I saw on a bed of disease ; 
When in death's cold embrace my pale eyes saw her languish. 

And the tide of mortality flowing apace. 

But I wUl not again tell the tragical story, 

111 open the floodgates of sorrow no more ; 
She's gone, and her spirit has mounted to glory, 

Has gently been wafted to Heaven's bright shore. 

Adieu, lovely maid ! — but we part not for ever ; 

Our spirits shall meet in the mansion above \ 
Where no more shall the storms of Adversity sever 

The peace of those hearts that were faithful to love. 



On thx Death of Mb. Richard* Vivian, op Caiibornx, who was 
Drowned on the 22nd of Mat, 1820. 

Spirit of Truth ! inspire my mournful strain : 

Now no fictitious woe adorns my tale ; 

But death's dread sting, and his triumphant pain, 

Has caused the sorrow which pervades my wail. 

For he has croes'd that drear and darksome vale. 

Where Life's dim taper wastes in horrid gloom, 

Beneath the fatal influence of the gale 

Where nothing that inherits life can bloom, 

Save the dark cypress that entwines the silent tomb. 


But he who poun these Btrains of sorrow knew 

His friendly hearty his open, generous mind. 

Where wisdom's early buds with vigour grew. 

By -virtue chastened and by lore refined. 

Alas ! that heart is now to death resigned, 

And mouldering lies in earth's unconscious womb ; 

And o*er him nightly moans tiie hollow wind. 

Whilst weeping friends lament his awful doom : 

For still his memory's dear, and blossoms in the tomb. 

The hours of youth had gaily flown away. 

And manhood's prime had graced his opening years, 

But'transitory was his fleeting day. 

And short his journey through this Tale of tears ; 

No more his tunefiil voice the mourner hears, 

No more the diamond brightens in his eye ; 

His name upon the funeral urn appears, 

His f onn's remembered only with a si^ ; 

For oh 1 his spirit's fled, his soul is lodged on high. 

How distant from his mind that fatal mom. 

That, while bright health was pictured on his face. 

His corpse would on the angry suige be borne. 

Before the sun had run his noontide race ! 

That he so soon the cup of death should taste. 

So soon be wafted to immortal joy. 

With everlasting happiness be blest, 

And drink of love and peaoe without alloy. 

And taste of heavenly bliss which time can never doy. 

But thus our dearest friends shall pass away. 
And all our earthly pleasures have an end : 
Shall sink like bubbles on the brook that play, 
And to our breasts the darts of anguish send. 
Fotmtain of Love ! assuage the pangs that rend 
The cherished friends who to his heart were dear ; 
Be thou to them a father, brother, friend. 
Heal up their wounds, and wipe off every tear. 
Till all again shall meet in Heaven's eternal year. 


There is a maid- divinely fair. 
And blooming as yon flowery heath ; 
And chaste as robes which cherubs wear. 
And sweet as e'er was angel's breath. 


To Yntoe^ ImbvcbIt 

Thoo, Iov«lj DIB& ! ait Ae 
Oh ! let my fltains tJij pity 
In vujgiii nxDooBDfOB UT&yed, 
BethoOyendMiiliB^Siri! m 



The muU of tbe aonuBv skill liiii« OK the km. 

And floated o'er woodland and piam ; 
The shadowy Tmpon wen flitting and dull. 
And the owlet iMd eewed his wild stiain. 
Bach sihrery pine whidi arose from the dale 
Was anmyed in a dew-epangled shroud. 
And the streams tiiat meandered adown the lETeen Tale 
Had lost the bright beams of the nigfatnarb, whidi, pale 
Had her fight" in the westeni-most dood. 

O'er moimtain and vmDey I nirelwiily stniyed. 

Admiring the beauty of mom ; 
For the carpet of natnra was richly inlaid 

With whaterer oould i^ease or adorn. 
The breeses wfaidi wantonly played round my head. 
With a fragrance dehdoaa were frfaugfat ; 
And the face of Craation was cheerful and gbd, 
Whilst in robes of diYendfied duurms she was dad. 
That disooirered no semblance of fault. 

Tranquility rsigned through the flowery grore, 

Not a sound or a whisper was heard, 
Save the music of lephyrs which wafted aboTO, 

And the murmuring each rivulet stirred ; 
The jessamines flung their sweet odours around. 
Their tresses the mignonettes wove ; 
The roses of Eden grew wild on each mound. 
And the boughs of the willow-tree dropped to the ground, 

And shaded the flovrrets of love. 



When an amaranth bofwer attmctod my sight. 

In whiohy on an emerald throne 
Sat a maiden celestial in restmentA of white. 

Whose countenance beamed like the son. 
The ringlets which sportively played on her faoe;. 
Entwined the fresh roses of mom ; 
Her looks were expressive of holiest peace. 
And each feature displayed such a magical grace 
As well might an angel adorn. 

The lightly >winged Sylphs who were fluttering around. 

Were culling the sweets of the grove ; 
And the rosy-faced Cupids, reclined on the ground. 

Were pointing the arrows of love ; 
But each eye to the throne would continually rove. 
By such beauty divine I was awed. 
She seemed like a seraph just fled from above — 
With wonder I gazed,— 'twas the Angel of Love — 
And in deep adoration I bowed. 

My spirits were bathed in celestial repose. 

By the heaven which appeared in her look ; 
She ineffably smiled — with that smile I arose— 

Whilst a harp from a rose-bud she took ; 
She bent her sweet form o'er each tremulous wire. 
And flung her white fingers along ; 
The Cupids and Sylphs formed an elegant choir. 
And to music more sweet than the Orphean lyre. 
They chanted the following song : 

Mortal, listen to our tale ; 
Listen to our dulcet strains ; 
While the soft ambrosial gale 
Floats along the dewy plains. 

Where the flowery knolls unite — 
Where the streamlets wind their way. 
There our fairy bands alight. 
Revel till the dawning day. 

Oft our sylphs by moonlight steal. 
Where the blooming fair reposes ; 
Breathe into her ear a tale 
Sweeter than the breath of roses. 

Softly as the shades of even 
Stealing on the smiling glade. 
Or the gleams of opening Heaven 
On the Saint's departing shade ; 


liOYe apon the joathfol heart 
OpeoB aU her honied treasuree ; 
IhawB it to her prioelees rnart^ 
Bids it taste immortal pleaaarea. 

Hark 1 the chanticleer oi mom 
Soonds his wakening notes so shrQl ; 
Hark ! the shepherd's rustio horn 
Eohoes to the distant hill. 

Fairiesy Cupids, Sylphs, and Eaves, 
Mount upon the morning mist ; 
Leaye these woods and fields, and dells, 
Fly to soenes of brighter blies. 

They ceased ; but the music still rung in my ears. 

Till it died on the ether away ; 
And the visions asoended their heavenly spheres 

Slum'd by the monarch of day. 
The valley was suddenly turned to a plain, 
And fled was the hyacinth grove : 
But whenever afflicted with sadness or pain. 
The fond reooUectioziiB dispel all their train. 
When I think on the Bower of Love. 



As with life's dark immantling glooms 
The weary pilgrim has to cope, 
What glimmering %ht his path illumes f 

The Star of Hope. 

When horrid tempests rend the skies. 
His heart in cheerless woe repines — 
The Star of Hope their power defies. 

And brighter shines. 

When silent sorrow swells his breast, 
Whene'er his languid spirits droop. 
What gives his mind serenest rest f 

The Star of Hope. 

On life's tempestuous billows tost, 
Despair has seised his shrinking soul ; 
Amidst the storm hell soon be lost 

When mountains roll. 


No — still his guardian star can otye ; 
See— o'er the sea her lustre glides— 
His bark upon the glassy wave 

Triumphant rides^ 

When o'er the bosom of the deep 
The spangled heavens serenely smile. 
The seas in siveeteet silenoe keep, 

Tranquil and mild. 

With joy he sees, without a oloud. 
Among the moonbeams trembling far, 
Bndrded with a radiant shroud. 

His lovely star. 

When feeble are his anns become, 
And weak with age resign the -fight^ 
It gilds the preoiucts of the tomb 

With hallowed light 

Bee— Angels bear his soul on high ; 
There mounts his buoyant spirit up — 
Flames through the passage of the sky — 

Adieu, sweet Star of Hope ! 


There's a language that's mute— there's a silence that speaks, 

There is something that cannot be told ; 
There are words that can only be read on the cheek. 

And thoughts but the eyes can unfold. 

There's a look so expressive, so timid, so kind. 

So conscious, so quick to impart ; 
Though dumb, in an instant it speaks out the mind. 

And strikes in an instaot the heart 

This eloquent silence— this converse of soul. 

In vain we attempt to suppress ; 
More prompt it appears from the wish to control, 

More apt the fond truth to express. 

And oh, the delights in the features that shine. 

The raptures the bosom that melt ; 
When, blest with each other, this converse divine 

Is mutually spoken and felt. (1820) 

* " Sonnet" Mema to have been regarded as a short poem»— not edverfeing to 
the floact number of Unee it ia azpaoted to contain. 




Lady, is this a mortal stmin 
That buratB upon my raTiahed ears. 
And thrills my breast with pleasixig pain. 
And drowns my eyes with mystic tears ? 

The loftiest strains of " witching song " 
To these enchanting tones must yield. 
That from thy lily fingers flung 
Float sofUy o'er tiie ethereal field. 

Where musio wakes the soul to bliss, 
Or lulls her in repose dirina^ 
The halcyon rays of happiness 
With brighter, loreHer lustre shine. 

But when each tuneful magic wire 

To Beauty's power harmonious move^ 

The heart raoeivea seraphic fire, 

And glows with sweet oelflwtial lore. 



Strike — strike, Sons of Freedom I redouble the blow ; 
And bury your swords in the infidel foe :— 
From a conflict so noble, deign not to fly ; 
In Liberty's struggle 'tis glorious to die. 

By the manes of your warriors who battled and won, 
In ages past by, and tibe days that are gone ; 
Repulse the fell tyrant— his fetters— his faith. 
Oh, burst from your bondage, or triumph in death. 

On Marathon's plains let the war-trumpet sound, 
And the dust of the mighty will wake from the ground ; 
Let the straits of Thermopybe redden with blood. 
And their spirits with rapture will gase on the flood. 

The land of the Hero, the Poet, the Sage ; 
The fairest and brightest in History's page ; 
Shall her temples and shrines be for ever disgraced. 
And her beauty by Moslem infemals d e faced I 

No —the sun of their glory in darkness has set, 
But the beams of his splendor shall roll round them yet ; 
Already they shine through the swift-flying gloom. 
And spread o'er the nations like light from the tomb. 


Strike— ftrike, Sons of Freedom ! redouble the blow; 
And lay the proud bannera of tyranny low ; 
Arise from your thraldom, triumphant o'er all. 
And sweet be the sleep of the warriors who fall. 


The world hath one sweet re«ting-pIaoe 

Where mourners find repose, 
And sorrow's children cease to weep. 

Regardless of their woes ; 
Where never was an eye impearled 

With one unbidden tear. 
Or strain of grief, or tale of woe. 

Assailed the listless ear. 

And monarchs quit their r^gal state 

For its unbroken peace, 
And Beauty's blooming daughters in 

Its hallowed garments dress ; 
And saints in glorious hope repose 

Within its beamless shade, 
And sinners cease from troubling, where 

They rest each weary head. 

It bids all human sorrow cease. 

And every stonn be calm. 
And heals up every bleeding heart 

With an unearthly balm ; 
And when each tender tie that bound 

The soul to earth, is riven, 
It shines along life's wilderness. 

The vestibule of heaven. 

And silent is its solitude. 

And voiceless are its bowers, 
Where the cypress sheds its thickest gloom 

Upon the springing flowers ; 
And there the voice of song thrills not 

Through one responding breast ; 
Like harps upon the willows, they 

Are silent and at rest. 

And Time's vast family must dwell 

Within that lone retreat, 
And every beating pulse will there 

Its genial warmth forget ; 


When life's lart sporkfl shall fade away, 

Like sanbeama from the wave ; 
For this dwelHng ha,—Tkt Sepulchre ; 

This restlDg-place, — The Qraoe, 



• • • • • 

Yes, 'tis sweet to wake the strains 

Of those we loyed in former years, 

Who shared our pleasure, soothed oar pains. 

And shed a lustre o'er our tears. 

Whose smiles b^uiled the evil hour. 

As on our arms they fondly hung. 

And woke each bud of hope to flowei. 

And charmed our sorrows into song. 

Then, while the bliss-inspiring notes 
Our souls with holy rapture fill. 
Each &iiy form before us floats— 
We hear each voice divinely thrilL 
They rise, in mockery of death ! 
RecaUlDg all that's past and dear, 
As though they lived in music's breath. 
And revelled in that hallowed sphere. 

* • • • • (1823) 


In heaven the stars 
Were mounted on their goldea cars. 
And ooundng the empyreal height, 
like sonny barks on seas of light ! 
Oh ! who of mortal birth can see 

The flaming phalanx of the skies — 
Its march of solemn majesty, — 
Its twinkling beams, —its thousand eyes- 
But on imi^fination's wings, 
He soars above all earthly things. 
And, in sublimest visions lost. 
Ascends among the starry host. 
Their tracks of shadowy glory trace. 
And runs with them their radiant race. 


In that bine depth thetv ia s vmoe 

Which whiflpers to his iamoflt eoal. 

He hears the monting stan rejoiee 

As round the edar blaae tliey roll ; 

And gasing on the enchanted scene — 

All thoughts of Eaiih indignant t^mrning, — 

like Omnipotent thus dimly seen — 

And Heaven's own lamps around hixs humingv 

He inly pants to be away, 

And, lost in its immenatfy. 

'Tis then that life seems deariy bai]ght> 

And death in snoh an hear were nong^i. 

For who, when from such tnmoe divine — 

While yet its visions dimly shine— 

His thoQghts oome tmgUng ba(^ agam 

To Earth, with all its can and pain. 

Feels not his prison's fettering waU, 

And all its bars grate on his soul ? 

Wero heaven a bright, unreal dreamy 

And all that saints and sages tell. 
Of giories o'er its fields that stream. 

And voioes through its arch that sweD, 
Delusion, and an idle tale, 
Oh I twere enough for us to know 

That when Mortality's thick veO 
Drops, the freed spirit forth shall go^ 
In light and liberty, and high 
On seraph plume shall swiftly soar. 
And find in the illumined sky 

A resting-place for evermore ! 
Shan think on Earth, and Time> and ^MMse^ 

As of some dull, evanished things, 
Which memory can bcit faintly trace ; 
And, rising on undrooping wings. 
Wander sublimely thitnigh the maae 

By forme celestial only trod, 
And deem that soaroe more glorious rays 
Could sparkle round the throne of Ood ! (18^) 

TIb Spring^I know by the softened breeM!, 

And the freshening balm 'tis bringing ; 
By the buds that are opening among the green trees. 

And the birds on their branches flinging. 


By the flowers around me thickly blooming, 
And the silver voices through heaven that ring, 

And the sun drawing nearer to herald her coming, 
Tia the glad approach of Spring. 

She has breathed on the woods, and their blossoming boughs 

Are to life and beauty waking. 
She has loosed the floods, and the tinkling rill flows, 

From its fetters gaily breaking. 
The violet and hedge-rose are silently quaffing 

Her richest showers of clustering dew^ 
And through the flying clouds she is laughing 

With eyes of sunny blue. 

The hare o'er the brushwood nimbly flies, 

The stag through the copse is glancing, 
The lark's sweet melody swells in the skies, 

And light on her plumage is dancing ; 
The eyes on earth and the stars in heaven 

Are shining out more vividly bright, 
And the season's warm glow to tiie day is given, 

And her placid smile to the night. 

The earth has felt in its sylvan recesses 

Her gladdening influence breathing. 
And the moonlight groves are with sparkling tresses 

Her rosy coronal wreathing ; 
And Ocean from every shore he laves 

Has caught up the circling story. 
Borrowed her brilliance, and lit up his waves 

In a living tide of gloxy ! 

But there is a spot where flowers are springing, 
Where never I wish to see them spring. 
And there is a spot where birds are singing. 
Where music should never its wild notes fling ; 
Tis over the graves of those who last year 

Were in health and beauty blooming. 
But faded away like visions of air. 

And are in tiie dark tomb consuming. 

The flowers that wave 'midst the stillness of death. 

Lend but a deeper gloom to sorrow ; 
Nor will melody charm the poor sleepers beneath. 

Till they wake to a glorious morrow ; 
In a land where the hours will eternally bring 

Pleasures which no rude winter can sever, 
There is no renewal of Smnmer or Spring, 

For they'll last for ever and ever. (1824) 



And woold'st thou wake the minstrers Ijrre, 

And pour its uwelling notes along. 
And gather from each trembling wire 

The moody revelry of song ? 
Beware— it hath a fotal power, 

That round it like a serpent dings. 
And desolates the fairy bower 

Whose blossoms shade its warbling strings. 

Its sounds are first all pure and deep, 

And whisper love, and breathe of heaven, 
But reckless if its chords thou sweep, 

Thy dust may slumber unfoigiven ! 
And Pleasure's sweet, alluring strain, 

And Passion's wild, voluptuous tone. 
May give thee that imdying pain 

Which is not felt on earth alone. 

The Poet's wreath, of hues divine. 

Is from the fairest flowers that blow, 
Would'st thou the gli^ring chaplet twine. 

And bind it round thy honored brow ? 
Beware — its colors oft deceive. 

And when their beauty most adorns. 
The blooming flowers may fade, and leave 

A circlet of the sharpest thorns. 


(Died July 26, 1824.) 
Farewell— thy memory mingles now 

With distant things, and days gone by ; 
The throbbing pulse, the burning brow. 
No more shall bid thee die. 

• "At Portreath, in niogan, on Monday last, Mr. George Reynolds^ Jan., 
aged 22 ; a young man of an amiable diapoaition and ainoeTely beloved by all 
who knew him. There are ftw aitnations in which death ia not an object of 
terror; bat when it roahea in upon youth and gaiety, chilling the warm reooUeo- 
tion of the paat and darkening the bright viiionB of the fatare, then ia it indeed 
an object of flsarftil anxiety. But to him the proapect of diaaolation waa made 
li^Fpy by the oonaolatiooa of religion. He aufltored a long and painftil illnea 
with moat Chriatian ibrtiiiade, and rejoidng in the hope of a gloriooa immortality. 
Hie gentleneai (tf hie mannera, the finrenoy of hia piety, hia raaignation in aiok- 
ne», and happineM in death, wUl long be embalmed in the reooUeotion of hia 
frieDdi."^i*rovMicui< Paper, 


Waked to new life— a thing divine — 

From cold mortality thou'rt riyen, 
And burst thro Death's thick gloom to shine 

A star in heaven. 

Yes, it was painful to behold 

Thy wasted form, thy languid limb ; 
The heart of friendship waxing oold. 

The eye of manhood dim : 
To see Life's latest blushes play 

On thy pale cheek, tho' calm as even. 
And placid 9s its hues, when they 

Are fading into Heaven. 

And who, that knows how earthly bliss 

Dies like a summer doud away, — 
How every flower of happiness 

But blossoms to decay, — 
How wildly through this mortal round 

We are by sin and sorrow driven. 
Will mourn to think that thou hast found 

A home in heaven t 

No — I would rather sleep with thee, 

In the cold grave, and be forgot. 
Than thou, if such a thing could be, 

Should'st back to earth be brought ; 
For where thou art supernal joy 

In richest plenitude is given ; 
Nor pain nor death can e'er destroy 

Thy rest in Heaven. 

Farewell, pure spirit, thou art now 

A form of light before the throne ; 
To Qod's all-wise decree we bow. 

And say, " His will be done." 
And though thou'rt early passed away. 

One hope shall still our gloom enliven, — * 

That we may shortly be with thee 

At rest in Heaven ? 

Yes, years have darkly stolen by. 

Since on thy peck I fondly hung, 
And drank the fragrance of thy sigh. 

And caught the music of thy tongue ; 


But many a comiiig year must roll 
Its weight of grief upon my soul. 
Ere Time can steal away from me 
One relic memory keeps of thee. 

My gentle laabellel 

IVe mingled with the festive throng. 
And drained the sparkling wine-cup dry, 

While the ripe thrilling yoice of song 
In echoing volume rose on high ; 

A voice was stealing on the lay — 

A voice unheard by all but me ; 

Upon the faintest note it hung. 

Amid the loudest peal it rung — 

The voice of Isabelle. 

IVe been where beauty charmed the soul 

With her full starry eyes revealing ; 
And love's divineet languor stole 

Upon the latent chords of feeling ; 
Even there I saw another stand 
And beckon me with bloodless hand ; 
And other eyes were on me then, — 
When will those eyes be bright again. 

My long-lost Isabelle ! 

Tib vain that thou should'st thus recall 
The passion nought but death can sever ; 

Would we had never loved at aU, 
Or, having loved, had loved for ever t 

But vain the wish ; within the tomb 

Thy beauty has foigot its bloom ; 

Thy faithful heart has long been cold 

Within the earth-worm's slimy fold, 

ni-fated Isabelle I 

Then cease to haunt my tortured breast, 

With pangs which Time can ne'er remove ; 
Or in the grave I fain would rest 

With thee, whom yet I only love. 
There is for every wound a balm — 
The fiercest storms must end in calm — 
And woes, however quick they oome. 
But sooner speed me to the tomb 

With thee, my IsabeUe. 




Let others hail their day of birth 
With festal glee, and dance, and song ; 
And dedicate its hours to mirth. 
To me far other thoughts belong : 
To me it tells of pleasures gone, 
Of hopes that only bloomed to die. 
And one mors year swept wavelike on 
To thy dark shores. Eternity ! 

It asks if o*er my youthful brow. 
No self -accusing thoughts can rise ; 
If I have sojourned here below. 
As one whose home is in the skies ! 
If I to Heaven <San lift mine eye. 
And smile at death's unconscious sleep ? 
My quivering lips yield no reply, ^ 
I only bow my head, and weep. 

Lord, I have wandered far from thee, 

And though thy Word sublimely showed 

like Israel's pillar'd flame, my way. 

In paths of dark delusion trod ; 

Have strayed while Troth's eternal beams 

Around me shone divinely clear. 

And thirsted while the gushing streams 

Of living waters murmured near. 

But now, if like the bird that o'er 
The billowy waste of waten sped, 
Nor saw to its wild waves a shore. 
Nor found, where'er she vainly sped. 
One bright, green resting spot of earth. 
Back to the ark again I wing— 
wilt thou not thy hand stretch forth 
And take the weary wanderer in f 

Thou wilt -thou wilt— efven now I feel. 
While bending at thy pitying throne. 
That half the darkness of the veil 
Which hid my soul ftx>m thee, is flown ! 
And from thy presence shadowing forth, 
A glimpse of love divine is given. 
Eclipsing every charm of earth 
With light that only springs ^m Heaven ! 

4^ MEMOIR or 

Oh! braalhe thy ▼oiee into my beuiy 
And let it ever whisper there ; 
That when from thee my steps depart 
Its deep low-tone I stiD may hear 
In all my wanderings^ like the didl 
That, torn from Ocean's coral caTes, 
Betains, whererer it may dweD, 
The mosic of the mnimuring 

The trsTeller on the mountain's height^ 
Walks on beneath a doadlesB sky. 
While lightnings flash beneath his feet^ 
And in the vale harsh thunders die. 
Such is the Christian's path ; below 
He sees the world's wild tempests driven. 
But heeds them not ; and smiles to know 
They cannot harm, so near to Heaven ! 


In respect of these poems, it will haxdly be necessary 
to observe that the major part of them are not inserted 
for the sake of their poetical merit, — of which, indeed, 
they possess but a very small portion. They are just 
what youths emerging from their teens are generally — 
when they do write — in the habit of writing. Poetry, 
with them, is in the main, a collection of common-places. 
They have at their command clouds, breezes, starlight, 
and sunbeams, streams, valleys, and landscapes of every 
variety, to which they can always help themselves ad 
libitum. Any due quantum of these, blended with a just 
proportion of romantic sentiment, will, with the aid of 
rhyme and metre, make such a poem as young swains 
have for many generations been accustomed to resort to 
as a suitable vent for their feelings. The records of these 
early attempts at song become interesting in the vase of 
those who, in mature years, can look back upon them 
and wonder by what power of imagination they were ever 
induced to regard them as genuine poetry. Unfortunately, 


this kind of retrospection is not so common as it ought to 
be ; and so we have a host of would-be poets inditing at 
forty the same magnificent dullness which they perpetrated 
at sixteen. With pinions that never bear them but a few 
feet beyond the level of the sea, they soar, as they think, 
to loftiest elevations. In the instance before us, we have 
just the reverse of all this. More poems appear to have 
been written in 1820, than in any following year; and 
after 1826, it is not apparent that he wrote anything of 
this kind for publication. An increasing acquaintance 
with poets of the highest class seems to have given a 
distaste for those original productions which could only 
find their way into newspapers, or magazines "of low 
degree. " There was certainly no just reason to suppose 
that perseverance would not have been crowned with 
much greater success ; for the transition from the poetry 
of common sentimentalism to poetry of a far higher order 
will, in the specimens we have given, be obvious to every- 
one. Five years elapsed between the compositions 
addressed to "Delia" and "Sylvia," and that entitled 
" To Isabelle" ; and a comparison of these productions 
will show how fast the youth of poetry was ripening into 
manhood. Of Delia and Sylvia, all that can be. said is 
that they are very good sort of personages, and as fair and 
virtuous as can be reasonably wished ; they belong, how- 
ever, to a class of commodities with which the market is 
at all times well stocked, and the loss of a few of them, 
though in a premature* way, does not much disturb the 
happiness of mankind. But " Isabelle" is, in the main, 
an exquisite conception. The lines addressed to her 
are more than good ; they are so truly beautiful that few 
poets of high mark would be ashamed to own them as 
their offspring. They have the body of poetry, and the 
living soul as well ; and they are marked with that high 
characteristic of true song — ^the apparent absence of any 


eifort in the composition,— as if the words were merely 
the drapery in which passion had naturally and spon- 
taneously clothed itself. As far as can now be remem- 
bered, the poem entitled " My Birthday" was regarded 
by himself as the most meritorious; an opinion with 
which we think that others will hardly coincide. It is 
true that it contains one stanza which probably is not 
equalled by any other, viz., that beginning with "O breathe 
thy voice into my heart" ; in which the voice of the Spirit, 
as ever present to the heart, is resembled to the murmur 
of the waves, with which the sea-shell is always vocal. 
But this stanza loses much of its value from the thought 
itself not being strictly original The murmuring of the 
shell was too happy a thing to escape the notice of poets 
till the nineteenth century, and among others, we have 
the beautiful words of Walter Savage Landor, previously 
well known to the readers of classic poetry : 

" Pleased, they remember their augfust abodes, 
And mnrmur as the ocean murmurs there." 

The Lines to the memory of Mr. George Reynolds, 
and which, in point of merit, occupy a medium position 
between his first and latest poetical efforts, may call for a 
passing notice. George Reynolds was one of his youthful 
associates, and at the age of twenty-two was cut down by 
a rapid consumption, the progress of which exhibited one 
of the most striking manifestations of the triumph which 
the Christian's faith can achieve over the terrors of death 
and the grave. While yet in seemingly vigorous health, 
and surrounded by all that gave enjoyment to the present 
and promise to the future, the affairs of another life had 
been lightly dealt with ; but on his bed of languishing, he 
sought and found mercy and acceptance with Heaven. 
It has been truly observed, in the extract already given, 
that '' there are few situations in which death is not an 


object of terror, but when it rushes in upon youth and 
gayety, chilling the warm recollections of the past and 
darkening the bright visions of the future, then is it 
indeed an object of fearful anxiety." This is nature; 
but grace had so thoroughly overcome such feelings, that 
death not only ceased to be " an object of fearful anxiety," 
but was hailed with unspeakable pleasure. The fact of 
his becoming the subject of so gracious a change was the 
more remarkable from the very unfavorable tendency of 
the associations connected with his early training. These 
had been everyway unfriendly to the spiritual life, and 
when his earthly career was drawing to its close, there 
were few of those immediately around him who could 
either weep with him in his sorrow, or rejoice with him in 
his joy. But there — in a secluded part of a house devoted 
to public business, and surrounded by much that was 
painfully contrasted with the solemnity of a dying cham- 
ber — ^he lay, one of the happiest of God's creatures, 
waiting his summons to the skies. 

It was about eight months after the death of George 
Reynolds, that Thomas Garland was called to part with 
that other friend and still closer companion of his youth, 
the circumstances of whose death have been previously 
noticed Of three yoimg men, blest with equally fair 
prospects of life and happiness, two were thus quickly 
removed from the earthly scene; and the incidents of 
this period bring us to the year 1827, when a far more 
important change occurred in his own family circle. It 
was on the evening of the fifteenth of September, when 
his &ther, who had left his house in the morning in 
excellent health and spirits, did not return at his accus- 
tomed hour, and much surprise and conjecture were 
occasioned by his unusually long absence. While all was 
wonder and doubt as to what might have happened, his 
son was summoned away by a messenger, and returned 



early on the following morning, with the tidings that 
he, who had left us the day before, was no longer an 
inhabitant of earth. He had been returning home after 
the day's engagements, and, on calling at the house of an 
old acquaintance, was, while there, seized with apoplexy. 
Prompt medical aid was at hand, but he spoke no more, 
and in about three hours breathed his last He had been 
a man loved and honoured above many, and the news of 
his sudden removal affected thousands with the sincerest 
sorrow. Upright in life, kindly in temper, and of great 
usefulness in his Christian sphere of action, it is not saying 
too much to state that his departure left a blank in that 
neighbourhood which has never been filled up, though 
forty years have passed since the time of his decease. * 

* "At niogan, of apoplexy, on Satnrday last, aired 57, Capt. Thomaa 
Garland. Seldom have our oolumna recordad the death of one mora 
generally esteemed or deservedly lamented. As a father and a friend, 
he will long be mourned by many bereayed hearts. Nearly thirty years 
he was a highly acceptable and useful Local Preacher among the Wea- 
leyan Methodists, and it was while disohaiging an office of GhriatiaD 
charity in visiting a sick person, that the melancholy event oooorred.'* 
—ComypoU OazetU, September 22Md, 1827. 



In the WesUyan Magazine for June, 1829, there appeared 
an article entitled "Memoir of Thomas Garland, of lUogan, 
Cornwall : by his son, Mr. Thomas Garland." In this 
memoir it was very justly observed by the writer, that 
^' the life of a Christian whose sphere of action extends 
but a few miles from his residence does not often supply 
very stirring incidents to claim the pen of a biographer ; 
his excellence consists chiefly in the uniformity of a life 
hidden with Christ in God; in humility and the patient 
labor of love, and in the constant maturing of the graces 
which sustain and adorn the Christian character. The 
eye of friendship, as it glances over the life of such a one, 
sees many bright features on which it loves to repose, 
while in its records there may be little to arrest the atten- 
tion of a stranger.*^ To few persons were these remarks 
more appropriate than to his deceased father, — z. man 
whose biography as contained in half-a-dozen pages of a 
religious periodical could do nothing in the way of pre- 
senting his real image and superscription. To strangers, 
therefore, such a memoir would have comparatively litde 
interest It states that he was bom at Bridge, in Illogan, 
Cornwall, in 177 1, and proceeds to notice the following 
circumstances in his life. — He was impressed with deep 
religious feelings in childhood, and was benefited by the 
instructions of some pious relatives, though his own 
parents were strangers to the power of godliness. Com- 
pelled by circumstances to be early employed in the labor 
of the mines, he knew nothing of the advantages of a 
liberal education or of opportunities for much mental 
improvement, but found his chief pleasure in poring over 

52 MEMOIR or 

the pages of his connexioiial magazme, which he would 
take with him in his private walks or into the solitude of 
an adjacent wood. When seventeen yeais old he removed 
with his parents to die Dartmoor mines in Devonshire, 
where the perilous nature of his employment veiy fre- 
quently brought before him the misery of dying in an 
unprepared state. He had been up to this period destitute 
of that vital change which alone fits for happiness in this 
world and the next, though restraining grace had done 
much for him in his earlier days. Five years afterwards 
he returned to his native place, and under the ministry of 
the Rev. W. Thoresby came to the resolution that he 
would be altogether a Christian. From this period his 
character was uniformly in accordance with his profession. 
As his temporal circumstances |»x>spered he relinquished 
his employmeqt as a laborer and became the manager of 
a small copper mine about two miles from his residence. 
This mine was contiguous to Forth Towan, a little village 
on the sea coast TTie people were very ill supplied with 
spiritual pastors, and he was impelled by an earnest love 
to their souls to commence public meetings for prayer 
and exhortation. Much good was done, several persons 
became the subjects of a gracious change of life, and over 
the small but gradually increasing, band of spiritual wor- 
shippers he watched with affectionate zeal and devotion 
upwards of twenty years. Fifteen of the littlb flock had 
during that time joined the Church triumphant, and some 
of them had left glorious testimonies to the power of that 
religion which supported tliem in life and in death. A 
small chapel, with Sunday-school, has since been erected, 
there being about seventy church members in the village 
at the time of his decease. He had commenced his labors 
as a local preacher when at the age of twenty-five, and 
being gifted with talents of a very usefiil order, was highly 
acceptable to the numerous congregations he was called 


from time to time to address in what was then a very 
large Wesleyan circuit, reaching from St Agnes to Fal- 
mouth. His zeal in this work was not weakened by 
length of journeys or by bodily fatigue, and he had the 
happiness of knowing that by his instnunentality the feet 
of many were turned into the ways of righteousness. Like 
others whose aggressions against the kingdom of Satan 
have made them the subjects of the foulest calumnies, he 
had at one time to endure a most slanderous imputation 
on his moral character, and on going to preach at a 
certain place was warned by a friendly voice that his 
attempting to do so might probably endanger his life. 
He proceeded to the chapel, commenced the service, 
and in his prayer alluded to the crime with which the 
public rumor had charged him. He prayed that if he 
were guilty of the sin the Divine displeasure might at 
once be manifested in taking his life, and that if innocent 
some sinner might be converted by his preaching. There 
was a deep silence throughout the rest of the service, 
until it was broken by the cries of a man on whose 
conscience the word had taken hold, and who did not 
leave the place till he had become a new creature. 

After his marriage in 1803, he became increasingly 
prosperous in his worldly affairs, but was scrupulously 
careful to use wisely the substance with which Providence 
had blessed him, faithfully discharging the active duties 
of Aife, and at all times holding himself free for the fulfil- 
ment of his religious engagements. In 18 14 a great 
accession to the church took place, and the litUe chapel 
at Bridge became too strait for the worshippers. An 
opportunity was now offered to gratify his wish for seeing 
a commodious place of worship erected in his native 
village. He applied himself most assiduously to the 
work ; subscriptions flowed in liberally ; and a very neat 
chapel, capable of containing 700 persons, was completed 
at an expense of about ^800. 


With the exception of a brief notice of that depressing 
ailment with which his last years were troubled, and of 
the general circumstances of his death, the incidents here 
mentioned form the substance of the Memoir, But the 
lapse of nearly forty years since these brief notices wofc 
written has gathered around them associations of a 
character not altogether uninteresting. It was stated that 
in the erection of the Bridge chapel he had seen the 
accomplishment of one of the dearest wishes of his heart 
That day was unquestionably among the proudest of his 
life, when this building was opened for public worship. 
It is noticed here as capable of accommodating 700 
people, but the Memoir gives the number as 1000. Of 
this estimate the incorrectness will be obvious to every 
one who knows the place. But the very mention of a 
number so far exceeding its actual capacity, shews the 
eifect of impressions existing from early boyhood. This 
was our family chapel, which we had long been accus- 
tomed to regard as the model of sanctuaries both for size 
and elegance. The man who could mount that pulpit, 
and confront that congregation, and acquit himself credit- 
ably in so doing, was held fully equal to all demands that 
were likely to be made on him in his ministerial work. 
Men of Connexional mark had honored its services by 
their preaching, and on one very memorable occasion a 
celebrated minister had occupied the pulpit night after 
night for nearly a whole week in succession. Ttie 
preacher alluded to was the Rev. Josiah Hill, well known 
for many years in this county, to one of whose dis- 
tinguished families he was related by marriage. At the 
period referred to he was leaving Cornwall for Bristol, to 
which place he had engaged a passage in a trading vessel 
from Portreath. But tiie wind was dead against him, and 
the good Wesleyans of the neighbourhood finding in the 
midst of them an evangelii^t of such repute, prevailed on 


him to preach in the Bridge chapel every evening until 
his departure. The old proverb which tells us that a 
wind must be bad if it blows good to nobody, was fairly 
exemplified as again and again the delighted audience 
sat under the sound of this fascinating preacher, at the 
conclusion of whose several discourses it was regularly 
announced that Mr. Hill would preach there again on the 
following evening, "should the wind permit" 

The chapel however ha^ small claims to architectural 
merit Its exterior and interior were marked by an 
almost Quaker-like simplicity, and with the exception of 
a small painting hung on the panel of the front gallery, 
no omame^nt met the eye in any direction. Severe taste 
would not even allow that painting to be an ornament 
It was just the production of a house and sign painter, 
and exhibited the arms of his Britannic Majesty. The 
gallery, which passed round three sides of the building, 
was commodious, but not much can be said for the 
accommodation in the body of the chapel, the stone floor 
of which was miserably cold in winter, while a large 
proportion of the seats were only bare forms without even 
back supports for the sitters. So fully was the principle 
of utility rather than show attended to, that some twelve 
years elapsed since the so-called completion of the house 
before a painter's brush was laid upon the wood work; 
the pulpit, the gallery, the pews, and the forms having 
received no other finish than that for which they were 
indebted to the carpenter's plane. Yet, if on the one 
hand it must be granted that the beauties of this edifice 
were things of the imagination to us who could only com- 
pare it with itself, it was far otherwise to those who had 
worshipped in what was called the "old chapeL" Com- 
pared with that — of which no further description will be 
needed — the new temple was, beyond all dispute, a 
spacious and noble structure. 


The chapels of those days were marked by one feature 
which is now rapidly disappearing, and will probably in a 
few years be altogether a thing of the pasL In front of 
the pulpit, from which it was generally separated by the 
singers' pews, was a railed enclosure some eight or nine 
feet wide, and extending in length across the space 
between the side aisles. This was known by the name 
of the leaders' seat It was occupied by men who, in the 
Wesleyan economy, filled the office of class-leader; a 
kind of subordinate pastors, having the oversight of 
classes, or select companies of church members. It may 
be doubted whether the sacrifice of the "leader^ seat" 
to modem taste, is not on the whole very much for the 
worse. There was often a great .deal of what was 
touching and affecting in the sight of those venerable elders 
of the church, who thus formed the visibly connecting 
link between the minister and the flock. The recollection, 
at this distance of years, of the men who occupied this 
place and position at Bridge, suggests the question whether 
in societies and communities of every kind there are not 
cycles, or distinct periods, when men of a certain stamp 
appear on the scene, t6 whom the next generation will 
bring no successors. The first ten years which followed 
the opening of the new chapel may be called the palmy 
season of spiritual vigor and prosperity in that neighbour- 
hood. From the district of Forth Towan, the place 
where the writer of the Memoir speaks of his father 
having raised the first Wesleyan Society, there came to 
mingle with the worshippers at Bridge a band of Christian 
men whose fervent piety, integrity, and zeal would have 
adorned the church in any age. These, with others who 
might be seen near them in the public service, were such 
living epistles as were known and read of alL There 
was A., the bold uncompromising champion of the faith, 
who feared the face of no one in whatever direction 


duty might call him to speak or act; cahnand ddiberate, 
inflexible and faithfiil, and frequently possessed of won- 
derful power when in prayer he became a voice for the 
congregation. There were S. and R., men of fewer years, 
in the prime of their manhood, with less of individual 
character^ but of good report with all the brethren, so 
that when an accident at the mine hurried them both into 
eternity at a moment's notice, no sli^test doubt was felt 
as to their destiny; for they were men who walked the 
world with their lamps trimmed and their lights burning. 
And there was J., a man of singulaily simple and child- 
like piety, living in the very atmosphere of religious joy 
and confidence, seldom troubled with doubt or depression, 
but rather like one who by some happy chance had got 
into the land of Beulah almost in the first days of his 
pilgrimage. This joyous trust in God was not shaken 
under fasnSly afflictions of the most terrible character. 
And when during weary months his heart and flesh were 
failing through lingering disease, no doud darkened his 
sky. He observed that sometimes when reading of the 
triumphant deaths of departed Christians, he had thought 
their exulting language had gone beyond the bounds of 
sobriety; that in this he had been altogether mistaken, 
for that no words could express the manifestations that 
were now made to his souL As the moment of his dis- 
solution approached, like one ^^o could hardly believe in 
the full measure of his joy, he had a looking-glass brought 
to his bedside and gazed with rapture on the hues of 
death that were uimiistakably stealing over his features. 
'^It is so," he said, ''sure enough it is so; blessed be 
God, I am dying !'' * 

As a place of some importance in respect of its claims 
on the labors of the regular ministers, the Bridge chapel 
had for the most part one sermon firom the '' travelling 
preacher" every Sunday. The evening discourse was 


generally furnished by one of the "local" preachers, <rf 
whom some twenty or thirty were more or less engaged 
on the Sabbath in suppl3ring the various smaller cbapds 
in the circuit It remains to the present day a problem 
of some intricacy as to how fas this peculiar department 
of the Wesleyan. economy is qualified to answer the ends 
designed by it. That such an agency is absolutely requii^ 
ed in the great majority of the circuits, is unquestionable ; 
the rural populations scattered over large and thinly 
peopled districts would have no chance of getting the 
ministry of their choice if this provision were not at hand. 
It has, however, been the occasion of severe animadver- 
sion on the part of other religious communities. They 
have said, How are these numerous congregations to be 
instructed in divine things by men who must every day be 
working for their daily bread? How are simple and 
unlettered men, who have in general neither time nor 
capacity for biblical and theological studies, — ^how are 
they to become expositors of the Word and teachers of 
Christian truth? Does it follow that because common 
laborers are suitable for building a chapel, they are just 
the persons to build up a congregation in the faith? In 
answer to this, it is said that those Weslejran preachers do 
not affect to represent a regular ministry; they neither 
baptize, nor administer the Lord's Supper, nor discharge 
any ministerial functions but that of preaching. Though 
in the main they are uneducated and have slight know- 
ledge of books, their prayerful study of the Bible has made 
them, in thousands of cases, instruments of great power 
and usefulness; and inasmuch as the congregations depen- 
dent on them must have their services or be very mach 
as sheep without shepherds, it must be everyway desirable 
that such talents as these persons possess should be em- 
ployed in the way that will most benefit their fellow-men. 
The rejoinder is^ that, admitting many of them to be 


not only usefiil but of very respectable abilities, a laigc 
proportion are — ^whatever may be said of Aeir piety— 
so entirely destitute of elementary knowledge, tbat as 
public speakers they must expose themselves to the 
contempt of any hearer who has had a tolerable education, 
and that men who cannot speak a half-a-dozen sentences 
without ridiculously violating all grammar and pronunci- 
ation, ought not, under any pretence, to assume the office 
of public teachers. Such is the argument; and considering 
that the present march of education has put it in the 
power of all who aim at usefiilness in the Church, to 
acquire such rudiments of learning as will at least free 
them from fAis reproach, it is not easy to reply to it; nor 
can it be questioned that the whole subject is deserving 
of far greater attention than it has yet received 

In the case before us, and at the period we now speak 
of, it would have puzzled the profoundest metaphysician 
to explain the principles on which many of those 
occasional preachers could do honor to their vocation. 
Some of them were not only void of all educational 
accomplishment, but had such strange eccentricities of 
manner and matter that their exhibitions were regarded 
as something like a raree show. Some enjoyed in an 
eminent degree the gift of hesitation, leaving the audience 
in wonder, when one sentence was accomplished, whether 
another would be forthcoming. Others were at the very 
antipodes of all this, — starting at full speed and running 
on to the close with undiminished velocity, too rapidly 
by far to allow the most attentive hearer the power of 
separating thoughts and ideas. Yet there were some 
who were well fitted to command both attention and 
respect; workmen that in no sense needed to be ashamed, 
rightly dividing and powerfully enforcing the word of 
truth. Moreover, the humblest of them were, for Ae 
most part, ornaments to their Christian profession; pious. 


laborious, zealous for the glory of God and the good 
of men, and cheerfully encountering, for no earthly 
recompense, the toils to which their long journeys 
subjected them in the heat of summer and the storms 
of winter. 

The Sunday morning service at the Bridge chapel 
commenced at half-past nine; an hour that seems some- 
what strange to modem perceptions, but just in accordance 
with ^the position which, in this county at least, Wesley- 
anism and the Established Church occupied towards each 
other half a century ago. It is well known that in the 
infancy of Methodism a separate church was no object 
of Mr. Wesley's intentions or of his desires. But the 
difficulty, if not the absolute impossibility, of keeping so 
large and increasing a body of people on any other 
footing but that of connexional independency was always 
Ipoking him in the face; and while ever anxious that his 
people should retain communion with the Church of Eng- 
land, his far-seeing wisdom led him instinctively so to shape 
his measures for their conduct and discipline, that, when 
taken from them, he should leave with them all the essential 
principles of a true church government Yet he not only 
regarded the adherence of Methodists to the Establish- 
ment as a thing in itself desirable, but thought it highly 
necessary to the maintenance of their own prosperity. 
It was only in places where no different arrangement 
could be made that he would sanction Methodist preach- 
ing during the hours of church service; and many years 
after his death the members of his societies regularly 
received the Lord's Supper in the parish church, not 
dreaming that this ordinance could be validly administered 
in any other place of worship. On such points the Bridge 
congregation was, at the time we speak of, in something 
like a transition state. Those members who had been 
gathered in from the profane multitude, and who before 



their conversion had cared but litde to attend any place 
of worship whatever, were quite satisfied to sit at the 
Lord's table in their own chapel and there only. The 
more aristocratic portion of the assembly, and those who 
had been church-goers for many a day previously, without 
forsaking the ordinance as given by their own ministers, 
thought it right to cpmmunicate in the church as well. 
So as to the time of public service; the major part of the 
company wanted notiiing more than to praise, and pray, 
and hear the Word read and expounded, in their own 
sanctuary. But there was another dass for whom this 
would not do; and accordingly as soon as the Sunday 
morning sermon — ^not service — ^was concluded, there was 
a general stir and uprising, in the gallery especially, with 
those who were hurrying away from the chapel to attend 
the service at the church. Absurd and unseemly as such 
a practice certainly was, it held on its way for a long 
time. The morning repast at the chapel was apparently 
regarded by many grave and devout Christians as only 
preliminary to the more extended banquet that awaited 
them a mile distant; and when the preacher was indiscreet 
enough to lengthen his discourse beyond the accustomed 
limits, the enquiring looks, and half wistful feces, and 
rapid glances at the watch, would all indicate the un- 
easiness that was working within. 

Apart, however, from any purely religious consider- 
ations, there was a veneration for the Established Church 
common to all classes. It was the Church of their land. 
There they had been baptized : there they were wedded ; 
there, beneath the shadow of its elms and sycamores their 
families and kindred had year after year, and generation 
after generation, retired from the toils of life to rest with 
the congregation of the dead. So strong was the genuine 
old English feeling towards this house of their fathers, 
that had the pulpits of our parish churches been in that 


day distinguished by a sound and heart-searching ministiy, 
neither Methodism nor Dissent would have stood much 
chance of making its way in their neigbourhood. In 
Cornwall the parson's name had too often been connected 
with associations not very creditable to the order, although 
the clergymen who officiated at lUogan had generally been 
men of unblemished moral character. The gentleman 
who at this time served that church was what is called 
" high" in his principles, and could not consistently with 
his views countenance anything which had the semblance 
of nonconformity ; yet was tolerant and courteous to all. 
He was, perhaps, exceeded in his church views by his 
coadjutor the clerk, a swarthy son of Vulcan, who aHer 
sweating at the anvil six days in the week guided the 
responses of the congregation on the Sabbath. The 
encroachments which Methodism had gradually made in 
the district were so little to his taste that he would 
probably have been far from displeased at seeing a 
revival of the good old days when the lllogan church- 
wardens had entered on their books a charge of seven 
shillings and sixpence for expenses incurred in "driving the 
Methodists out of the parish." He knew but of one 
form of religion — the National ChurcK Of Apostolical 
Succession he had never heard, but were he living in 
these more enlightened days he would have embraced 
that doctrine in a moment Neither marriages nor burials 
had as yet been know to him in connection with Wesleyan 
places of worship, but after some time the news broke 
upon his startled ear that a child had actually been 
baptized in a neigbouring chapel On his questioning 
die parents respecting this matter, and finding that they 
had really entrusted the baptism of their child to the 
hands of a Wesleyan preacher, he smiled at their ignor> 
ance, and gravely assured them that '^ all that work must 
be done over again." 


It is due to the very estimable clergymen who for many 
years have had the oversight of this parish, to acknow- 
ledge that whatever opinions they may have cherished 
as to the validity or efficiency of the Methodist ministry, 
there has been nothing contrary to amicable intercourse 
between themselves and the parishioners, whether of the 
church-going or chapel-going classes. It is true that the 
curate has sometimes shared in the prejudices of the old 
clerk. Young men fresh from college, and in the full- 
blown vigor of their ecclesiastical dignity, have on 
entering the scene of their labors stood ag^bast at the state 
of things before them, and wondered by what terrible 
dispensation of Providence so laige a proportion of the 
people had been given up to such a sad delusion. But 
the superior pastors have sometimes thought differently, 
and have frankly admitted that the Wesleyans have not 
only done the parish no injury, but have e&cted therein 
an incalculable amount of good. 



It was about three years after the decease of the elder 
Mr. Thomas Garland, that his son, then twenty-six years 
of age, became connected with an undertaking whidi for 
the first time brought him fairly before the public in his 
literary character. With the exception of the biographical 
memoir noticed in the last chapter, and which for many 
reasons could afford no estimate of his actual powers as a 
writer, nothing but some fugitive poems had appeared 
under his professed authorship. From an authority quoted 
elsewhere, we are told that during the time in which he 
was occasionally inditing verses for the provincial news- 
paper he frequently supplied its columns with ''racy and 
amusing matter" on some of the political topics of the 
day. What these contributions were cannot now, in the 
absence of any guiding signature, be certainly known ; 
but there is no doubt that for some years previous to the 
period now before us (1830) he had taken a keen interest 
in politics, and had principally employed his pen in the 
discussion of public questions. He appears also to have 
had a growing conviction that his strength lay in this 
department of composition, far more than in the cultiva- 
tion of poetry, of which pursuit the attraction seemed to 
be steadily diminishing as his taste for the higher dass of 
poets was becoming matured. It must indeed be obvious 
that nothing but considerable experience in political writing 
can account for the general character of those articles 
which he now gave to the public as the acknowledged 
editor of a new Cornish newspaper, published at Fal- 
mouth, and entitled The Comubian, 


At tbat time there weie tiiree newspaficfs whk}: baf a 
respectable drculatioD in the ooontr. — the Wed Brum, 
the Cornwall Gazette, and the Fabmnttk Faded; r>£ last 
a journal of not many years standing. A recent csniy^aie 
for the public Eivor — the Guardian^ j^jViL>*iftd at Tn:ro, 
and conducted by a gentleman of some Iheiai^' ceutrlcitT — 
had just become defunct, expiring after a sickly exi^steixe 
of a few mondis^ duration. Indeed it is m^ veiy ea^r to 
say what was the public opinion at that time with t^^^x 
to the policy or necessity of intnxhidng znc^itr ComL^ 
newspaper. For some thirty years the Hest Brit<m zzA 
GazettCy both published at* Truro, had held undl-iyjtfcd 
sovereignty over the Whig and Tory politics of Corr-wa]], 
and until the announcement of the forthcaming Falmouth 
Fackdy a new political journal had been as Httle Lhou;g^.t 
of as a new comet The times have wonderfully chariged 
since that period At present every considerable town 
must have its free and independent weekly nemspaper, 
and the facility and cheapness with which even the daily 
county news is transmitted from the Tamar to the Land^s 
End has become one of the marvels of the age. 

At the time when the Comubian was projected, two 
experiments had been made in the way of competition 
with the established newspapers. Of these, one, as already 
mentioned, had utterly and hopelessly failed ; but the 
other had at least so fi&r succeeded as to become a 
promising speculation. The sails of the Packet were 
swelled with a fair gale of popular favor, and the question 
now to be determined was, whether there were reasonable 
grounds for adding another newspaper to the three already 
existing. It is probable that die projectors of the Comu- 
bian had little doubt that as far as number was concerned 
the supply was sufficient The third Truro paper had 
failed, but a second Falmouth paper might — virtually put 
its predecessor out of the field, for on the score of 



editorial ability the latter would have no great pretensions 
when compafed with its rival The politics of the two 
journals would not sufiidently differ to make any opposi- 
tion on that ground warrantable; whereas the Troro 
journals, advocating widely different sentiments and not 
unfrequently coming into deadly collision, maintained a 
healthy political excitement, and kept public opinion from 
stagnating. It may therefore be fairly conjectured that in 
the view of its proprietors the Cotiatbian was to become 
the Falmouth newspaper. 

There were those among the selectest portion of what 
the new^)aper calls an enlightened public, who tiiougfat 
very badly of the whole concern, as a thing decidedly 
uncalled for. One gendeman in particular, well known 
to the editor elect, and otherwise on very friendly terms 
with him^ was loud in his denimciation of the project, and 
devoutly hoped that it would never pay. His reason was, 
that it would be a needless tax upon the county, as com- 
pelling advertisers to incur additional expenses to insme 
for their advertisements the necessary publicity. How 
very small these additional expenses actually became, 
how very slightly the Comubian increased this burden 
upon the advertising community, is a circumstance which» 
if known at that time, would have considerably delayed 
the publication (^ the journal But as this fact was cme 
of a thousand secrets then resting in the bosom of the 
future, it was not deemed expedient to dux)w aside the 
undertaking even in deference to the vigorous protest we 
have alluded to. The prospectus wajs accordingly drawn 
up, and the public were informed, as nearly as might be> 
of the day and hour when the new luminaxy would make 
its appearance. 

As far as the prospectus was concerned there could be 
no reasonable doubt that the Comubian was eminently 
entitled to the support of every thinking man in tl^ 


county. Its sentiments on aU affairs — national and 
domestic, as weU as on all individuals — public or private, 
were to be marked by the soundest philosophy and 
the strictest impartiality. The hackneyed and much 
abused motto of '^ measures, not men," was now to 
become a living watchword. Firmly attached as its 
conductors might be to certain political tenets, whiggery 
itself would be held as nothing in comparison with truth. 
As a political journal, it would be free from that bane of 
newspaper morality, party spirit As an organ of domestic 
and foreign intelligence, it would give the earliest and 
most authentic news of whatever was transpiring in the 
world. As a funily newspaper, it would so blend the 
useful with the entertaining as to make it a welcome guest 
in every well-regulated establishment It would also keep 
a watchful eye on the literature of the day; bring all 
deserving publications under its favoring regards ; expose 
the hollow, the unsound, and unprincipled ; wage deadly 
war against false doctrine ; and defend those '* pure and 
illuminating truths " which concern the future well-being 
of mankind What more could be promised? What 
could the loftiest morality and the severest taste require 
in addition to such performances ? 

So on Friday morning, Oct i, 1830 the first number of 
the Comubian came before the public, to whom it made 
its obeisance in the following terms : — 

" In offering to the county of Cornwall a fourth weekly 
Journal, it will naturally be expected that we should state 
upon what principles it will be conducted. Without 
further prelude we pass at once to their exposition." 

*^ Our political creed is based upon that sound consti- 
tutional maxim, that the Crown is held in trust for the 
benefit of the People, The Kingly office is one which 
conunands our highest respect and veneration. No other 
is more visibly of divine appointment The world cannot 
present a scene of sublimer interest than the people of a 


nation solemnly setting apart one of their number as a 
supreme minister of justice. Still we regard sovereignty 
as a pure delegation, and denounce the doctrine that any 
man possesses an inherent right of dominion over his 
fellow-creatures. We surrender a portion of our abstract 
rights in exchange for the advantages of civil union. The 
individual to whom this surrender is made is entitled to 
our fealty so long as he is faithful to the liberties which 
he swears to defend. But if he compromise them for 
personal aggrandisement, and violate the rights of his 
people for the acquisition of irresponsible power, he is no 
longer their king, but a usurper. The prince who im- 
poverishes one class of his subjects to enrich another, or 
wastes their blood in unnecessary wars, renounces his title 
to supremacy. We are aware that these are old truths, 
but like wine they improve by age, and cannot be kept too 
fresh in the national mind. The doctrine of the divine 
right of kings, or as it has been facetiously expressed — 

"/iMV dvoino, 
That is, a right to yoiirs, and mine. 
And OTory body's goods and rhino," 

though exploded centuries ago, is not without its ad- 
herents in the present day, in which — as the Edinburgh 
Review says — ^it has returned to us like a thief from 
transportation, under the title of Legitimacy. We believe 
the passion for arbitrary ascendancy one of the guiltiest 
of our common nature. Its sway in ambitious minds has 
turned men into fiends, and drenched the earth with blood. 
The next greatest crime has been, in whole nations weakly 
and wickedly stooping to despotism. We doubt not that 
as the world advances in virtue and intelligence, this 
disposition to usurp unnatural power will be more 
vigilantly resisted, and be held in unmingledi detestation. 
Custom and habit will be inefficient sanctions'^or tyranny^ 



and crime will cease to deceive by the illiisions of romance: 
A rising conqueror will be lost to hisUny by making a 
premature exit as a robber; and the axe, avenging an 
initiative murder, will deprive the world of an incipient 
hero. There is nothing in the records of our race more 
astonishing than the facility with which lawless men h.?\e 
risen to empire over millions who have sacrificed 
liberty and life in becoming the instruments of their owti 
shame. The path to such victory has ever been through 
the dying and the dead, — amid ruin, and tears, and blood. 
Yet have the multitude followed the victor to his fatal 
conquest, wreathed the guilty laurels round his brow, and 
hymned the triumph purchased with their fineedom * " 

'* The Intimate office of human government is to protect 
the lives and liberties of the subjects ; and happy had it 
been for the world if its power had been confined to this 
duty. But not content in this sphere of action, nor with 
subjecting mankind to its violence in unlawful waiiaiey it 
has in all ages usurped dominion in a province beyond its 
authority — ^the human mind. Here its sins have been 
deep and deadly. Its influence has mosdy been unfavor- 
able to mental progress. The spirit of inquiry it has met 
with malign passions and inveterate prejudices. It has 
warred with thought, and applied brute force to the sub- 
jugation of spiritual energies. It has seized upon the 
meek spirit of Religion, and with her pure truths the 
rulers of states have blended the maxims of their 
iniquitous policy, and made her a minister of eviL It 
is impossible to estimate the injury thus inflicted upon 
mankind. Kingdoms which are now the habitations of 
cruelty might but for these oppressions be rich in wiyjom 
and virtue. Sciences now in their birth might have i»hat 
up into maturity. Generous principles, whirh seem now 
to involve the risk of experiments, might have |^i>i»ed into 
axioms. The impulses which great minds m'ouM have given 


to society, but for the resistaxu:e of harsh gOYemments, 
might have forced it onward to attainments beyond our 
conception. The evil of this mental tyranny is measure^ 
less. In its desolating track it has at intervals been met 
by the remonstrances of patriots and reformers, and they 
have found their answer in the cord or the stake. It has 
occasionally stung to fiixy the spirit of a people, and their 
wrath has been quenched in their blood. Against the 
dearest rights of humanity it has warred with bitter 
hostility, and has left a debt of burning indignation to be 
paid back from the hearts of the wise and good unto the 
end of time." 

'' Let it not be thought that we undervalue the utility of 
governments. We are rendering them our best services, 
and strengthening their true interests by placing their 
claims upon an intelligible basis. The government which 
maintains its power by arbitrary authority b weak and 
worthless, compared with that which rests its claims upon 
the principles of common justice, and finds the first sup- 
ported by the universal influence of die last It is wise 
to make friends of the free energies of the human mind — 
to seek in Reason and Conscience obedient ministers. 
Is he the most enviable monarch, whose laws are written 
in the hearts of his people, and whose throne is in their 
affections ; or another, whose sway is maintained by the 
roar of artillery and the bristling of bayonets ? Is that 
government the most durable, whose power is drawn fix>m 
9n abridgement of the liberty of its subjects; or that, 
which like the divine law it typifies, perfects its authority 
by conununicating ' perfect freedom ? ' The highest pur- 
pose of the self-directing energy of government is to guard 
and increase that of the people. They are its worst foes, 
who would unduly extend its prerogative, divorce it from 
its natural alliance with the people's will, and erect its 
throne upon the ruins of a nation's rights." 


" In confirmation of these principles, we cannot but 
advert to the splendid illustration of their truth lately 
aflforded by France. We have no parallel to that volcanic 
explosion of indignant feeling. Her infatuated ministers 
had no sooner woven the net than they were meshed in 
its toils. On one day the deluded monarch lifted his hand 
against the people, — the next, he was an exile in his own 
land. One hour beheld him invested with regal dignity — 
the next he was 

" a mark for soom 
To point her slowly moving finger at. 

Long live Charles the Tenth, formerly of France, and 
now of Lulworth ; for while he lives there remains a 
solemn warning to Princes against tampering with the 
rights of their people, and to the people he tells how 
truly such outrages are avenged. He may thus console 
himself that having betrayed Freedom in his rise he can 
serve her in his fall ; that having once fought against her 
he now preaches her doctrines with greater eloquence 
than her chosen disciples. In this capacity, he can be her 
effective though silent minister, and when he dies, may 
bequeath his mantle, a joint legacy, to the Dey of Algiers 
and the Duke of Brunswick." 

" We live on the eve of eventful times. A solemn 
crisis in the history of mankind is approaching. Europe 
is waking as from a dream. France has sprung to liberty. 
Greece is free. Spain, Portugal, Italy, Belgium, and the 
German Principalities, are giving note of (Hreparadon. 
The chaos of moral ruin is heaving with life. Elements 
of more than human power are performing in a day the 
work of ages. It rejoices us that the conflict is more 
between principles than passions — ^that opinions are clash- 
ing instead of arms. If the Continent is to be regenerated, 
we trust the process will bear more of this distinctive 
character — that the result may be the peaceful triumph 
of moral victory." 


" From these remarks our readers will infer that we 
desire to regulate our course, not so much by the creeds 
of conflicting parties as by the everlasting obligations of 
Truth and Justice, — to escape from the trammels which 
political power has woven around mankind, and aid them 
in accomplishing their freedom by th« might of their own 
moral energies, — ^to advance public happiness less by the 
imposition of outward restraints and punishments than 
by assisting the internal expansion of those sacred 
principles and affections which have their root in every 
human heart. That national virtue will produce national 
prosperity — ^that public freedom will create the most 
devoted loyalty — ^and that under their united influence 
man will rise to superior moral dignity, are maxims which 
we feel interwoven with our intellectual being. They are 
attested by universal experience, we find them incultated 
by the patriots and philanthropists of past ages, and we 
hear them in the voices of all nations rising in sublime 
recognition of their eternal truth." 

" Among the meliorating influences which have latterly 
improved the spirit of society at home, and exalted the 
character of our national intellect, a high rank roust be 
assigned to the increased energy and unexampled difiiision 
of popular literature. The power of intellect has a sway 
never before known. It is felt throughout the chain of 
systems and opinions which encircles the human family. 
Men from whose minds the light of new truths has dawned 
upon the world, have risen to a moral elevation which 
overlooks all other distinctions. Hidden in their closets, 
they become through their writings * a universal presence.* 
Speaking from solitude, their voices are echoed back in 
tones of gladness from new springs of feeling which they 
have opened in the hearts of thousands. To them is 
transferred the homage which once waited upon legalized 
dignity and hereditary wisdom. External pomp dwindles 


to a shadow before intellectual majesty ; and the highest 
interests of society are advanced by according this pre- 
eminence to mental power. Every new revelation of the 
treasures and energies of our spiritual natures, promotes 
virtuous independence of action by discovering to us the 
unsuspected worth — ^and consequentiy, the solemn respon- 
sibility — of an individual mind. We cannot too highly 
venerate the men who are the medium of communicating 
to their race sublime and invigorating truths. They are 
the best preservatives of the civil liberties of a State, and 
still more of that free expansion of thought, and inward 
self-dominion, from which outward liberty derives its only 

" We aim at making this journal a faithful representative 
of the spirit of the times. In so doing, our attention must 
frequendy be directed to those powerful springs of moral 
action which determine its character. Amongst these we 
are happy in discerning an increased force of religious 
principle. It has given a coloring to the national mind. 
Legislation is prompted by more generous feelings. The 
great solemn rights of humanity are more distinctly recog- 
nized. The barriers of sectarian distinction, by which 
men restrained their sympathies, ape breaking down. 
There is a great and growing community who are united 
by firmer ties than . those of an exclusionary party, or a 
union of secular interests. Theirs is an alliance of intel- 
lectual and moral feeling, — a relationship the purest upon 
earth, that of mind to mind. No friendship is closer 
than that by which strangers become brethren through 
affinity of spirit We attribute much of this connection 
between men of various parties, to a more just apprecia- 
tion of the value of Christian charity,— of that self-sub- 
duing principle of brotherly love which is the essence and 
vitality of our holy faith. We would refer, in confirmation, 
to the first-fruits of this catholic spirit, in the union of such 


men in advocating those benevolent Institutions which 
have for their objects the highest interests of mankind. 
We see smother proof of its divine character in the perva- 
sion of our current literature with a purity of tho^ht, 
and sanctity of feeling, which we believe it has never 
before evinced. We hail these and other similar manifes- 
tations, as evidences that not only the intellect but the 
heart of our country, if we may so speak, is progressing 
in moral strength. It is only by an habitual reference to 
the sublime connexion subsisting between our mortal and 
immortal existence, that the loftiest mental energies are 
brought into vigorous action. The mind that refuses to 
recognize its immortality, withdraws itself from the highest 
objects of thought It shuts out the light without which 
life is a mystery, and its changes the random volitions of 
a dream. Its thoughts, and hopes, and aspirations, are 
all 'of the earth, earthy.' It is therefore of the first 
importance, even to literature, that its dependencies 
upon religious truth should be distinctly understood. If 
human life be initiatory to a higher existence, then aU 
views of it from which this prime truth is excluded are 
formed upon a false estimate of the nature of man. 
If substantial happiness can be enjoyed only when 
Conscience and the Will are in perfect harmony of action, 
then, all theories which represent it as otherwise attainable 
are mischievous deceptions. It is consequently impossible 
that literature when severed from religion can worthily fulfil 
her office. We rejoice that, instead of such a disjunction, 
we behold them in closer alliance, and trust they will 
strike their roots still deeper in the human mind, where, 
as an elegant writer remarks, ' they should grow up and 
flourish together like the twin trees of Life and Knowledge 
in the garden of Paradise, affording shelter and shade with 
their intermingling branches, and yielding in their season 
the flowers of genius and the fiuits of holiness.' " 


** In thus stating the principles on which the Comubian 
will be conducted, we have aimed at giving expression to 
truths which are daily placing themselves in more striking 
manifestations, and are exerting great power upon society. 
The force of native intellect is more directly applied to 
the promotion of liberty and virtue. We glory in our 
country, and feel honored by the humblest ministration 
to her welfare. To furnish the slightest aid in advancing 
her chief interests — to assist in giving freer and more 
generous impulses to public feeling — to be enrolled among 
the band of devoted spirits whose highest aim is to leave 
their country better than they find it — these are distinc- 
tions not to be equalled by any external honors. With 
such convictions we start as candidates for public favor, 
and are content to rest upon their truth the decision of 
our claims." 

From the introductory address we turn to the leading 
articles ; the first on Slavery : — 

" There is a considerable increase in the excitement of 
public feeling upon the Slavery Question. The labors of 
the Anti-Slavery Society, with a periodical devoted exclu- 
sively to its service — the public meetings in our principal 
cities and towns — ^the scrutiny which candidates for our 
open boroughs underwent at the late election — ^and the 
solemn protest against the continuance of the system, 
made by large and influential Christian Societies, are 
evidences that the national mind is in powerfiil action, 
and that the subject must speedily be forced upon the 
attention of the Legislature. To mitigate the force of 
popular opinion, the agents of the West India body are 
busy in circulating statements in its favor. We will briefly 
glance at the arguments to which they attach the greatest 

" We are told that slavery in the West Indies bears a 
milder character than the representations of it in England 
— that the slaves are more comfortably maintained than 


the poor of this country — and that our abhorrence of the 
system is a delusion arising from the fictitious horrors 
with which the abolitionists have invested it All this 
we disbelieve ; but, granting its truth, and that all the 
individual atrocities upon record are fabulous, is there not 
enough in the general character and the avowed regula- 
tions of slavery, to justify our repugnance towards it ? 
Are not the slaves refused any day but the Sabbath to 
support themselves and sell the produce of their labor? 
Are they not denied the rights of marriage, of giving 
evidence in courts of law, and of purchasing their freedom 
at any price? Are not families separated — fathers, 
mothers, and children torn from each other, and sold 
into heartless and hopeless bondage? Is not the whip 
used in forcing them to labor ; and is not the flogging of 
women still continued? We are aware that in some of 
the colonies there are exceptions to these enormities; 
but in the greatest number they are still in existence," 

" It is contended that emancipation, if granted, wiU 
not benefit the slave population; that they are not pre- 
pared for liberty, and that its sudden acquisition will 
plunge them into licentiousness and rebellion. We must 
remember whence this argument comes, — from those who 
first make the slave the degraded being that he is, and 
then complain that he wants the qualities of a good 
subject. But there are already 90,000 free people of 
color in the colonies — a. greater number than the whole 
of the whites, and in some islands possessing half the 
property. What is the unfortunate distinction that 
prevents the slave from becoming, when emancipated, 
capable of conducting himself like the free man of his 
own blood? We admire too this amiable horror of 
rebellion in the Colonists, and especially in its connexion 
with a loyal hint of theirs, that if England interfere with 
the slave system, they will tiDansfer their allegiance to 
the United States'." 


" Again, we are told that if a reformation must take 
place, it should be by the laws of the Colonial authorities; 
that the complicated interests of the West India trade 
will be fatally deranged by any home legislation upon 
which the Colonists have not a veto. But cruel experience 
has proved the folly of leaving a question of humanity to 
the decision of the planters. * Their laws,' said the late 
Mr. Canning, * can never reach, can never cure the evil.' 
* There is something,' continued that gifted man, in words 
all animate with the spirit of truth, 'in the nature of 
absolute authority, in the relation between master and 
slave, which makes despotism in all cases and under all 
circumstances, an incompetent and unsure executor, even 
of its own provisions in fevor of the object of its power.' " 

" But it is upon other and higher ground that we 
challenge the defenders of slavery. We take our stand 
upon the solemn, inviolable rights of human nature. It 
is here that the question mtist be met It may be hedged 
in by private interests, and commercial policy, and corrupt 
laws ; but the freedom of thought and volition which God 
has given to every rational creature is not to be * written 
off the record ' by mercenaries and infidels. That man 
is essentially a free being, is a truth which must ring, 
trumpet-tongued, through every isle in the Western Archi- 
pelago. We should dishonor the sacred cause of liberty 
by descending to parley about 'damages' and 'com- 
pensations,' while the great principle of self-dominion 
remained unrecognized. The Slave Question ! — it is 
deplorable that the worst passions of our nature have 
been strong enough to make slavery a question. It is to 
raise a question where common sense and feeling would 
reject it, that, besides the derision poured upon the African's 
form and color, attempts have been made to invalidate 
his possession of a soul. So widely has this notion spread, 
that thousands of amiable and well-meaning persons, who 



are not alive to the evil of such a delnsion, allow the 
image of their sable brother to rise habitually to the mind 
as a being of a distinct and inferior race. It cannot be 
thus. 'The Missionaxy/ said an eloquent speaker the 
other day at one of our benevolent anniversaries, 'has 
sounded the negro mind, and from its depths has brought 
up a gem flashing with the rays of immortality.' This is 
after all the most affecting ccxisideration. The chain of 
slavery not only enthralls the body, but fetters the energies 
of an immortal spirit Its infliction of physical suffering 
is horrible enough, but the subdued conscience — ^die 
crushed will — ^the martyred affections — how they rise in 
their agony, and shriek for vengeance ! " 

'' Why do not our Bishops oppose themselves vnAa more 
spirit, both in Parliament and out, against this abomina- 
tion? We do not ask the question reproachfiiUy, but 
because their influence and energies if righdy exeited 
must be of great service. The Friends — alwa3rs fiill of 
benevolent feeling — ^have publicly recorded their abhor- 
rence of the system. The Wesleyan Methodists are 
unanimous in seeking its melioration, and their last 
Conference recommended that a petition to Parliament 
should be forwarded from every congregation. Are the 
dignitaries of the Establishment to slumber while, the 
Sectarians are in generous action? We want their talents, 
their learning, their piety, to invigorate Ae cause. A copy 
of the Comubian of this day goes to every episcopal 
palace in England, that our prelates may judge of the 
public feeling by finding that even from the shores of 
Cornwall a voice calls for their assistance." 

This is followed by an article on tlie premiership of die 
Duke of Wellington : — 

" There seems but little probability of any effective 
opposition being made against the present Administra- 
tion in the ensuing session of Parliament Although it be 


evident that the late electioiis have dnmnidied the thick- 
and-thin supporters of the Ministiy, it is eqnaOy dear 
that the members who fill their places, dioi^ amiatrd 
by liberal and independent principles, are not < fumilnl 
by any one common interest of soffident strength to 
marshal them into a yigoroos Opposition. We bdierc 
also that his Grace of Wellington is preparing to neatrah 
lize the force of whatever accession of strength the House 
of Commons may exhibit against him, by such modifica- 
tions of popular grievances as wiD ensure the sopport of 
a requisite number of independent members to give him 
a majority in that House. The journals which are reputed 
to be most in ministerial confidence speaik pretty distinctly 
of a considerable reduction in expenditure, and conse- 
quently <5f taxes ; and of some amendment in the *^<s*iiig 
state of the Representation.'' 

''If the ministry begin zealously to economise the 
resources of the State, and to remedy those mond evils, 
in their views of which the people have outgrown their 
governors, what benefit can result from convulsing the 
Cabinet by a derangement of its members? We have no 
undue partiality in &vor of the Duke or his colleagues, 
but we give our unflinching support to men who promise 
fairly, without having by any past act betrayed the public 
interests. We are told that die present Cabinet is com- 
posed of men notoriously incapacitated for their duties. 
We ask for the proo£ That we have had Ministers of 
more popular talents, more able to adjust a metaphor, 
and build a climax, and balance an antithesis — to play off 
sarcasms and shadow forth abstractions — to defend a bad 
cause and prejudice a good one — all this we admit 
But our sole test of greatness is — in the language of an 
eminent moralist — 'He is the greatest man, who does 
most good to his country and to his kind.* By this, and 


by no other standard, shall we judge of the Administration. 
We believe its members are honest in their intentions to 
advance the national interest; and believing this, dare 
not withhold our support" 

" It is amusing to witness the sway which party feeling 
gives even to the most influential of the daily journals; 
when, for instance, the accession of the Duke of Wellington 
to the Premiership was first proposed, the Times declared in 
the eloquence of its wrath that *any goose upon Wands- 
worth common' was as fit to conduct the affairs of the 
nation as his Grace. When the Duke became snugly 
seated, the Times, — ^always the soul of independence — 
made the happy discovery that he possessed extraordinary 
prudence, sagacity, and other high qualifications. The 
Standard^ on the contrary, having previously spoken of his 
ducal talents with unbounded admiration, refuses now, in 
its ultra-toriness, to allow him a solitary merit He is 
represented as an incurable sumph — a man absolutely 
impracticable, and obsolete! A pamphlet, recently put 
forth upon the elections, in echoing the tone of the 
ultra prints, says, * civil experience he has hardly any; 
political knowledge, none: his talents lay in war, and 
with the peace they have ceased to be of any more use 
than an old matchlock, or a battering ram!' All this, 
be it remembered, is in reference to his native talent, 
abstractedly from its political action. And yet, mindless 
as he is, we are told that he has superhuman energies for 
mischief. He plots in secrecy the ruin of the empire. 
His head is fiill, as Mrs. Malaprop says, of diabolical 
knowledge.' He is, in fact, a human bomb, fiill of moral 
combustibles, waiting but for a favorable moment to 
explode and blow our social system to atoms!" 

" This is truly disgraceful. There are among the public 
prints honorable exceptions to such unpnncipled conduct ; 


but we regret that those which are most dtstmgiiished by 
knowledge and talent are equally so by their perversion. 
And such must be the unenviable celebrity of every 
journal which allies itself with the fluctuating interests of 
a party, instead of the permanent principles of moral 

The Ctfmudian commenced its career at a time when 
th^re certainly was no reason to complain of anything 
like a dearth of interesting subjects, whether on matters 
domestic or foreign. In France, Louis Phillippe had 
recently taken possession of the throne from which 
Charles the Tendi had been driven with ignominy. The 
Belgians were in arms against their Sovereign. The Duke 
of Bnmswick had been 'literally burnt out of his Duchy,' 
peace being restored under the sway of Prince William. 
The Dey of Algiers had gpne off to Naples. The Turks 
had been occupied widi an insurrection in Albania. In 
Portugal Don Miguel was getting everything ready for 
a start All over the Continent the fear of change was 
* perplexing monarchs.' At home the struggle for Parlia- 
mentary Rjcforro was just begiiming to acquire strength ; 
and a speech of Mr. Brougham at the Leeds Anti-slavery 
Meeting, had fired the zeal of the electoral body for 
exacting from their Representatives the .most unqualified 
pledges that they would use their influence for suppress- 
ing the abomination of Slavery. The fimeral of Mr. 
Huskisson, whose death by the lamentable railway 
accident had just occurred; and the decease of that 
original and powerfiil writer William Hazlitt, who had 
in the preceding week closed his unhappy career in 
wretchedness and poverty, were subjects not barren in 
interest And in Falmouth itself a case had transpired 
which gave to the Camubiaiis first Provincial Intelligence 
a peculiar as well as mournful character. This was the loss 
of two young gentlemen — one a native of the town and 


the other his relative from Bridgewater — who by the 
upsetting of their boat in a squall were both drowned in 
Falmouth Harbour, in returning from a vain attempt to 
reach Helford. 

The Reviewing department in the first number em- 
braced Sir Walter Scott's Letters on Demonology and 
Witchcraft, then published in Mr. Murra/s Family 
Library; also *'The Important Means of a National 
Literature" by Dr. Channing, of America. With these 
about three columns were occupied, mainly in the way of 
extracts, the critical remarks being few. The Poets' 
Comer was graced by a poem called "The Royal Bride,'» 
and which was introduced to the reader as having been 
composed on the death of the Princess Charlotte, but 
probably new at that time to the public, by its having 
had a limited circulation. For a similar reason, though 
the proceeding be somewhat out of order, we shall tran- 
scribe it here. " It is founded upon a tradition in the 
Western Isles, that a spirit named Flora sings upon the 
death of a young and royal bride, and is supposed to have 
been heard on the night preceding the decease of the 
lamented Princess: — 

A Spirit said from the diver eea, 
" Wo to thee, green isle, — wo to thee ! 
The warden from his watch-tower bent^ 
But land, and wave, and finnament 
80 calmly riept, he might hare heard 
The swift wing of the mountain bird ; 
Yet from the unfathomed caves below 
Thrice came that drear, death-boding word. 
And the long edioes answered, "Wo.* 

The warden from his tower looks round. 

And now he hears the slow waves bringing 

Each to the shore a silver sound — 

The spirit of the isle is singing 

In depths that man has never found. 


When she fdts in th« pomp of her ooean bed. 
With her souf of fight aroond her npie a d. 
The mariner thinka, on the misty tide 
He sees the moon's soft rainbow ^ide ; 
Her soqg in the noon of night he hean. 
And trembles as his berk he steere." 


I come in tbe mora — I oome in the hour 
When the bloasoms of beanty rise ; 
I gather the fairest^ the richest flower 
Where heaTen's dew purest lies : 

Then rest thee, bride. 

In thy beauty's pride ; 

To-night thoQ shalt sleep by Flora's sida. 

The eye I touch must be soft and blue 
As the sky when the stars are gleaming ; 
The bosom as white as the fleecy clouds 
Where the angels of bliss fie dreaming ; 
And the spirit within as pure and bright, 
As the stream that leaps amcQg tufts of roses. 
Which sparkles along, all life and lights 
Then calm on its open bed reposes. 

Then rest thee, bride^ 

By thy true love's side ; 
To-moirew a shroud his hope shall hide. 

I saw them wreathing a crown for thee^ 
With the riches of empires in it ; 
But thy bridal robe was a winding sheet, 
And the Loves that crowned thee sat to spin it : 
They heaped with garlands thy purple bed. 
And every flower on earth they found thee. 
But every flower in the wreath shall fade, 
Save those thy bounty scattered round thee ; 

Then sweetly sleep, 

While my hour I keep ; 
For angeb to-night shall watch and weep. 

O green isle I wo to thy boast and pride 1 
To-day thy rose was bright and glowing*. 
The bud was full, the root was wide. 
And the stream of love around it flowing ; 
To-morrow thy tower shall stand alone ; 
Thy hoary oak shafi round it flourish. 
But the dove from its branches shall be gone — 
The rose that deok'd its stem shall perish ! 



The transition from the state of a newspaper correspon- 
dent to the dignities and responsibilities of editorship, was 
a matter of some consequence to one who had hitherto 
no official connection with the press. In such a position 
the new power with which he becomes suddenly invested, 
gives to the incipient "conductor" am excitement of a very 
pleasurable character; especially as contrasted with his 
former subjection to the tastes or caprices of others. 'As 
a contributor, he must take his chance of being cordially 
accepted, or "declined with thanks." His articles may 
be inserted in all dieir fair proportions, or so clipped and 
mangled that when he looks at them in the printed sheet 
he hardly knows his own offspring. Or, if duly received 
and marked for insertion, press of other matter may delay 
them one week and crowd them out at another, till the 
hope so long deferred has made him too sick to enjoy 
them when they actually appear. What a change comes 
over all this when he is once enthroned in editorial 
majesty 1 No longer humbly suing for a comer in 
" your valuable and widely-circulated paper," but himself 
the sovereign dictator — ^the lord of a thousand submissive 
pens. It may not be unedifying to look for a moment at 
the manner in which the sceptre was swayed at Falmouth 
— at some of the responses emanating from the satutum 
sandarumy and waited for with trembling alternations of 
hope and fear by many an aspirant to the honor of being 
in print Thus, the author of "Lines written at Sea" is 
told that his composition should have remained where it 
was written, — it would not do for the dry land. — " Zeta" 
was asked if he could not trace up his pedigree to the 


man of whom Dr. Jt>hn9on said that he had only one idea 
in his head, and that a wrong one. — ^The juvenile author 
of an "Ode tjo Despair" — only sixteen — was told that 
his production created surprise at his being so old as that 
— " Dick" was cut short as being " really very stupid ;* 
and "Julius" was "a dunce." — The author of ^Stanzas 
to Winter" must have had his imagination chilled by the 
season, — ^was advised to wait for the thawing influences 
of the Spring. — Could not answer R STs letter about the 
horse-medicine, no farrier being kept at the C&mubian 
Office. — ** Moonlight Meditations " were not adapted for 
reading by day. — " Cannot undertake to revise the 
*' El^ac Stanzas;" they belong to that exalted class of 
compositions which no revision can improve." — ^** Junius," 
who had undergone the double misery of being jilted and 
sneered at, and who had sought relief for his sorrows in 
a short poem, was cruelly recommended to a taste of the 
horse-whip as a specific more suited to his complaint — 
The " Ode to Charles the Tenth " was declined, it being 
doubtfiil whether die Comubian was taken in at Holyrood. 
— ^The writer on the Theory of Vision would not have 
supposed lus article adapted to the Comubian^ unless his 
own vision had been very obscure.^" Cannot refuse to 
R. our cordial concurrence in die truth of his remarks on 
the progress of crime; and will cheerfully open our columns 
to him in checking its ' small beginnings,' one of which is, 
perhaps, the non-payment oi postages to newspaper 
oflSces." — The paper on Tobacco was thought very good 
— and " given to a fnend to light his pipe with." 

But with power comes responsibility ; extending fixHn 
the articles professedly editorial to the smallest parjigraphs 
of general intelligence, and not to be absolutely got rid of 
even in communications for the orthodoxy of which ail 
vouchers on the part of every one but the writer is solemnly 
disclaimed One article betrays too much animus in a 


certain direction, — v& needlessly severe, or personal. 
Another is not up to the mark in its advocacy or con- 
demnation of certain opinions. Here, sentiments are 
misrepresented; there, facts have been ^evously dis- 
torted. Careless correspondents involve the journal in 
the consequences of their inattention, by marrying those 
who are still single, and burying those who are still living. 
Angry controversialists are yet more exasperated at find- 
ing that beyond a limited extent the paper refuses to be 
the vehicle of their accusations and recriminations, — ^they 
have been deprived of that £ur play which is the sacred 
right of mankind. The efforts of aspiring but timid 
genius have met with mortifying discouragement from a 
quarter where better treatment was not unreasonably 
hoped for; and young ladies and gentlemen of the most 
amiable description have had the genial current of their 
soul frozen by the summary rejection of poems which, if 
somewhat mediocre to begin with, might have led to others 
of a character as exalted as the language could frmiish. 
To front these charges, and many others of a kindred 
nature, — ^to withstand the obloquy, disaffection, or loss of 
patronage which they not unfiequently induce — ^is no 
slight drawback on that divinity with which an editor 
* doth hedge himself.' In the case before us there were 
some extra difficulties. The editor was^ a non-resident, 
and could only be at Falmouth — some twelve miles dis- 
tant from his own locality — at certain times in the week. 
The arrangement and distribution of the general material 
which frUed the columns of the paper must therefore, of 
necessity, devolve on another official. This, which is well 
known as a matter of coiurse in journals which can only 
be conducted by a formal division of editorial labor, may 
be a serious obstacle to a weekly provincial print just 
started into existence. As matters were actually managed, 
the ComMan exhibited no failure from this cause. It was 


very creditably turned out of hand, neatly and correctly 
printed, and in its general getting-up was considerably 
a-head of any of its Cornish cotemporaries. 

There appeared in the fifth number of this journal the 
first of a series of papers under the title of " The Inves- 
tigator," communicated by a gentleman of considerable 
ability and intellectual research, at that time residing in 
Penzance. The subjects embraced by these papers were 
" Excellence in Science and the Arts ; " " Missionary 
Bazaars;" "Courage;" "Passive qualities of Fortitude 
and Magnanimity;" "Delicacy of Speech;" "Christmas," 
&C. At the close of the ninth paper an editorial note 
informs the reader that " by an arrangement which has 
been made since the above article was written, we shall 
discontinue the papers under the title of " The Investi- 
gator ; " a regular series of philosophical subjects being 
better calculated for a magazine than for the columns of 
a newspaper, which are read rather for relaxation than 
abstruse thought" Nothing, we apprehend, can meet 
with n^ore general concurrence than the dosing obser- 
vation in this note; and the puzzle is to imagine by 
what strange hallucination on the part of the contribu- 
tor or the editor a country newspaper was made the 
vehicle of a series of philosophical essays on subjects 
only to be handled by "abstruse thinking," — which 
would have suited very well the pages of the Imperial 
Magazine or some kindred production, but can by no 
sort of dexterity be made naturally to blend with the 
politics and news of the passing day. It is true that a 
sweet and sentimental poem has not much natural relation 
to politics, and that the affinity between the London 
Markets and a column of jokes is not easily made out 
But a certain portion of light material, as an agreeable 
variety in a &mily journal, has fully seciu-ed the approba- 


don of a multitudinous class who will on no account suffer 
their intellectual powers to be taxed by deep philosophy 
in journals taken up for news and entertainment There 
are indeed two subjects in the category furnished by the 
" Investigator," which can hardly be said to involve 
much of what is profound in thinking, — those on ** Mis- 
sionary Bazaars" and " Christmas." The former of diese 
was a topic of the day, at least in the immediate neigh- 
bourhood, and gave rise to some angry correspondence to 
which editorial authority was speedily compelled to put 
a stop. The latter was also by no means out of keeping 
with the time and circumstances under which it was 
written, and an extract from it will shew that if the aulhor 
loved to expatiate on themes deeply and dryly philoso- 
phical, he was no stranger to another vein of composition. 
He is speaking of the general fondness for creature com* 
forts of a superior order, at the Christmas season. — "The 
Englishman is proverbial for his love of the * creature 
comforts.* " And truly, as Providence has thought fit to 
connect pleasure with advantage in the means of self- 
preservation, we have no right to despise that favor. The 
enjoyment arising firom eating, to a hungry man, would 
not have been allowed if such a feeling from such a source 
were wrong. But it is the moderate use of sensual grati- 
fication that occasions pleasure. Gluttony, or drunkenness, 
at Christmas, or any other period of the year, is disgrace- 
ful to human beings. Either of these would lower even a 
brute in our estimation. For the stomach, crammed 
with a portion of every dish, becomes 

" A tomb of boiled and roast, of fleeh and fish." 

or, with wine and brandy, rum and porter, it resembles— 

" A tub of filthy waah, for beastly swine." 

"Sir Thomas More says of the inhabitants of his 


imaginaiy island of Utopia, that 'they believe the 
pleasure of eating and drinking, and all the other delights 
of sense, are only so far desirable as they give or main- 
tain health.' We would add to this, that they are desirable 
as far as they contribute to the advantage of man by 
increasing the sum-total of his happiness. Eating and 
drinking are with Englishmen the bond of good fellow- 
ship. A friend is not invited except the wherewithal to 
please the palate is set before him. How hungry and 
dry do even intellectual conversations appear after a few 
hours, except there has been somethmg introduced for 
the corporeal man. Even scandal cannot work smoothly 
except, like the axles of a carriage, there be something to 
lubricate die parts exposed to friction. Some small or 
large portions, as may be necessary, of Souchong or 
Twankay, and we should not wonder if sometimes there 
were a little Gunpowder, for the effects are occasionally 
murderous. Apolitical meeting possesses little patriotism 
except there be roast beef and pudding as a foundation 
for tiie feeling, and a cheerful glass to occasion effer- 
vescence. Whatever excites the pleasing interest of an 
Englishman — and it is so with the whole worid in a 
greater or less degree — ^makes him think about eating and 
drinking. Consequently, victory or peace, and the anni- 
versary of anything, must be celebrated by a dinner. 
Literary and religious bodies hold public breakfests, and 
dinners also if need be, or teas or suppers. It is eating 
and drinking all through; and yet these ought not to be 
loved for their immediate good, but for their usual 
consequen<%s. What Archimides said of the lever might 
almost be realized by a rib of roast beef; and no artillery 
would batter more effectually the ramparts of an enemy 
than a plum-pudding, well directed, would the prejudices 
of a fnend.*' 
The lapse of three months from the starting of the 


Comubian terminated the year, and this naturally paved 
the way for another editorial address: — 

''As this number of our journal appears on the last 
day of 1830, we embrace the opportunity which it 
presents of glancing at the general occurrences of the 
year. If such a retrospect forms in ordinary seasons part 
of the duty of a journalist, much more does it claim his 
attention at the termination of a year which constitutes an 
epoch in the history of the civilized world. 

"We have recently become so familiarised with extra- 
ordinary events, that our minds are in some danger of 
growing insensible to their magnitude, from the frequency 
of recurrence. But though the scenes which Europe has 
this year exhibited may glide through our memories like 
the pageantry of a dream, yet, had they been foretold at 
its commencement even credulity would have shnmk 
from the startling prediction. Whoever dispassionately 
reviews them must perceive that such momentous changes 
in the destinies of the Continental States were never 
before effected within so short a period Yet, great as 
they are, they have been accomplished with but little of 
the physical conflict which blends with the ordinary 
routine of political revolution. They attract our attention 
less by the means through which they have been wrought 
than by the effects which they have produced, and are 
not so much the result of martial combat as of an 
elemental war kindled in the moral world. We believe 
that the impulse which they have given to the cause of 
freedom marks the beginning of a waifare between moral 
and arbitrary dominion, which will end but with the 
destruction of tyrannical governments throughout Europe. 
The human mind is every where revolting against the 
monstrous assumption that the destinies of millions are 
to be swayed by the unlimited and irresponsible power of 
a single individual There is also a spreading conviction 


that such systems of government compel obedience more 
by their menacing attitude than by real strength; and as 
they successively explode, men are startled at beholding 
of what weak and discordant elements despotism is com- 
posed. Against their lawless rule the cries of nations 
are rising, as the voice of one man. Every day are their 
defences becoming weaker. Their cumbrous machinery 
of evil is inapplicable to the spirit of the times and the 
nature of the contest The progress of knowledge cannot 
be arrested by a military order — Truth walks unmoved 
through the thunders of artillery — and Thought rives like 
gossamer the fetters that would impede its action. The 
thrones of despots are tottering before the silent but 
mighty energy of moral power, and ruin can be avoided 
only by submission. Napoleon attributed his fall to his 
having warred against liberal opinions; and those who 
follow him in the inglorious conflict must either learn by 
his example or experience his fate. 

''In England, the triumph of opinion, though less 
violent, has been equally signal. So long as the late 
Ministry acted in accordance with the wishes of the 
people, and pursued the path into which the voice of the 
nation directed them, so long were they secure of their 
elevation. But the moment in which the Premier 
announced that the progress of reformation was ter- 
minated — ^that the Constitution should receive no further 
improvement — in that moment his fate was sealed, and a 
toirent of public indignation swept him from his position. 
To that memorable declaration is it owing that the present 
year concludes with so cheering a prospect to the friends 
of freedom — that the conservators of public abuses are 
every where sliding from their posts — and that the object 
of their panegyric, the redoubtable Borough system, 
petitions, through the mouth of the Duke of Newcastle, 
for a temporary prolongation of its miserable existence." 

9» MEitOTR OF 

"We rejoice in the impulse thus given to the cause of 
liberty, from a conviction diat it is die only element of the 
growth of public virtue. It involves the pure admimstn- 
tion of justice, the equal participation of dvil rights, and 
the fiiee expression and interchange of ofnnion. Without 
freedom to this extent, the moral energies of a people 
cannot be fiilly developed, and their happiness most be 
proportionally retarded. It aids the expansion of social 
feeling, the unfolding of national intellect, and the 
advancement of all the great, solemn purposes of exis- 
tence. Well, therefore, may we congratulate our readers 
at the conclusion of a year in which it has made a visible 
progression, and won enduring trophies.** 

'*But while offering our congratulations upon the pro- 
motion of the general interests of humanity, the pubUc 
are questioning us whether our own particular interests 
keep pace with them. ' How,' asks the reader, *is the 
Comubian itself getting on?* Now, we protest against 
such a question as this, as a most unwarrantable inter- 
ference with our business concerns. Yet, being at this 
moment warmed by the festivities of the season, we will 
just whisper into the reader's ear — ^in the strictest con- 
fidence — ^that we are getting on wcmderfiilly. It is, we 
assure him, an act of no small condescension on our part 
to state thus much, and we merely hint it under the rose, 
because we should be, of all persons, the last to trumpet 
our own fame. Indeed, in such particulars an edkor 
cannot be too circumspect There are reasons for a 
prudent reserve, which the public do not perceive. We 
beseech them to recollect that there are many other 
editors in the West of England besides ourselves. Sup- 
pose the extent of our fame were made known to them in 
its multitudinous reality — ^what would be the conse- 
quences? Chagrin, mortification, hopeless despair, — 
producing bile, jaundice, and broken hearts — and these 


a^UD, pecmuaiy losses, mdancfaolj boesvements, and 
the tfaiowiiig of helpless fianOics upon the vorid. Dare 
we lend omsdvcs to such atnxidcs? We repeat it, that 
a joomalist should be ML of modestj, from his toenails 
to his finger-tips. How ill woold it become ns to parade 
before canons eyes oor budget of bsdatoiy testnnomals, 
fixm the sheetof veDnm widi its seal blnsliing in annorial 
dignity, to the triangnlar note of whity-bniwn, cemented 
w^ friendship and beesrwax! Would it, «e ask, be 
delicate in as to state hoir our journal traverses not only 
the streams and valleys of Kngfand, but the banks ai the 
Tweed and the Shannon ? — how a tourist, in exploring 
one of the innemiost caverns of the Derbyshire Peak, 
found a man reading the ComMan; and how Thady 
CShane, the post-boy, got drubbed the other daj by 
mine host of the 'Shamrock,' near the Gianfs Causeway, 
for losing a weekly number of this print — die said num- 
ber being found in his hat after the tickling was over? 
Would it be proper to reveal the extent of our circulation 
in the Frendi, Portuguese, and Belgic capitals — through 
the United States, West Indies, and South America — to 
say nodiing of Van Diemen's Land, and Tongataboo ? 
Ou^t we to admit the eulogies of our friends for what 
was indeed but an act of justice — our providing for the 
orphans of a waterman idiose boat swamped in our own 
harbour from being unfortonately overioaded with a 
wedL's impression, to save the sailing of the Lisbon 
Piacket? Again, with respect to die influence which we 
are said to exert Could we with any p iop i iety make 
public the encomiums of a warm-hearted correspondent 
who tells us that the noble stand which the Belgians made 
against the Dutch was chiefly owing to our encouraging 
tone ? — of another, who says that the Duke of Wellington's 
shadow is ^ortened two inches since we opposed ourselves 
to his projects ? — or of a third, who writes from Ross 


Island in the Lake of Killamey, that O'Connell's mfluence 
is visibly decreased in Ireland since — ^as he elegantly ex- 
presses himself—- we *' touched up' that demagogue ? But 
these things we suspect, are mere jokes. We cannot 
seriously believe that such consequences have resulted 
from our humble efforts. That our labors have been 
instrumental in ousting the old Cabinet, and bringing in 
the new, — that we have accelerated the progress oi 
Parliamentary Reform — ^that our influence is sensibly felt 
in the strong-holds of arbitrary power and political cor- 
ruption — these are circumstances which, when forced 
upon our notice by ardent admirers, we can only answer 
with our blushes. But over the affairs of otiier nations 
we distinctly disavow our having any controL Painful as 
it is, on all occasions, to have our own popularity made 
a theme of discussion, it is doubly so when it is grossly 
exaggerated, because the inevitable re-action must cause 
it to fall proportionably below a fair estimate. We trust 
that this explanation, thus wrung from us, will convince 
the world that upon such a topic we are justified in being 

" Allow us to glance at an objection started against our 
politics — ^that they are too revolutionary. This we deny, 
in toto. Had our reign commenced before that of Charles 
the Tenth terminated, we should most certainly have been 
the eulogists of the men of July. When we began our 
career we found Belgium struggling for liberty, and we 
applauded her. And now that the Poles are rising against 
their oppressors, we rejoice in tiie prospect of their deliver- 
ance. But it is only from a defect in language, that these 
movements are termed revolutions. When the Belgians 
saw their rights gradually withdrawn, their national charter 
openly violated, their patriots banished, the press silenced, 
and the public voice subdued by Dutch mercenaries, had 
they allowed these atrocities to continue till every vestige 


of liberty had disappeared, such a result might well be 
called a revolution. Had Charles been able to impose 
his tyrannical ordinances upon the French, and thus at a 
blow have swept away the public freedom, that would 
indeed have been a revolution. But the so-called revolu- 
tionary proceedings have been in reality the preventives 
of revolution. In Poland the reign of despotism has long 
been tritunphanty though its power has frequently been 
disputed. There have not in any period of her histoiy 
been wanting brave and devoted spirits, who, if drcnm- 
stances were favorable to their wishes, would have proved 
themselves redeemers from an age of shame. Can any- 
thing exhibit more strikingly the fierceness of arbitrary 
sway in Poland, than the circumstance, that the immediate 
cause of the insurrection at Warsaw was an order fitnn 
the Grand Duke Constantine, that twelve students of the 
military school should be shot for singing the Marsellois 
Hymn? Let not resistance against such oppression as 
this be termed ' revolution,' if by that word is meant any- 
thing inimical to public good or universal happiness." 

''A word respecting die general arrangement of our 
journal. A letter bearing the Stratton post-mark, and 
signed ' Giles Stubbs,' complains of our appropriating a 
page to poetry and literary notices, and wishes us to be 
more copious upon agricultural matters. Now we assure 
the agriculturists that their interests are deep in our hearts. 
We pass over the circumstances of our possessing in our- 
selves a decided taste for rural affairs — of our having 
written several of the most valuable articles in die Farmeri 
Magaxiru, especially one upon the advantages of drill 
husbandry — and of our hitting upon two inventions 
now in embryo, one for milking cows by steam, and the 
other for distiUing brandy firom turnip-tops. But with all 
deference to our friend Stubbs, and while we assure him 
that the agricultural reports, together with much miscel- 


laneous information on forming matters, will in fiitare 
appear regulaily in this journal, we would submit to him 
that the literary notices and extracts of whidi he com- 
plains are not, to use his own expressive language, 'all 
nonsense.' Will he be good enough to recollect that in 
most families there are, besides the father and sons, a 
wife and daughters, and that while all feel a general inter- 
est in our literary varieties, they especially minister to the 
gratification of the latter. Perhaps at this moment some 
graceful girl is giving forth in tones of richest melody the 
sentences of this very article, and tired of its dreariness, 
is anxious to see the venerable listener at her elbow fell 
asleep, that she may escape into the tempting columns 
of our literary page. Pitiful apostates should we be, if 
for a moment we could forget the claims which the amiable 
sex have upon our attention. We dreamt one night that 
we were the editor of a journal expressly for the use of 
young ladies. An elegant little sheet we remember it was, 
of rose-colored paper, and printed in gold, with types of, 
if possible, superior clearness and beauty to those of the 
Comulnan, The advertisements were all of the Fine 
Arts, Literature, and the Fashions. The Foreign and 
Domestic Intelligence related chiefly to love af^irs, and 
the literary department was a galaxy of gems. The con- 
tributions were numerous, and eminent for taste and 
talent We recollect being seated in our editorial capacity 
at a table covered with wines and confectionary, flourish- 
ing a silver pen through a leading article which consisted 
of a parallel between the genius of L. K L. and Miss 
Jewsbury. Never shall we forgive the twinge of the 
cramp which awoke us from that delightful visioiL" 

"All the newspapers in England are telling us how 
much they are improving, and what wonderfid things they 
are going to say and sing in the course of the ensuing year. 
*New arrangements' — 'contributors of acknowledgt:d 


talent — 'great exertions' — 'exclusive intelligence' — 'ex- 
tensive correspondence,' &c, &c — Now to us, who know 
a thing or two, it is great amusement to observe how these 
baits are swallowed. Mind — not a syllable against their 
veracity, for much of the work is already done. The 
dreadful-accident men have several weeks been engaged 
upon some signal horrors for the beginning of January; a 
series of elopements and abductions, many of them under 
circumstances of peculiar interest, are in manuscript ; and 
the bites of mad dogs, for next summer, are wrought up 
with great spirit The 'exclusive intelligence' will be 
highly attractive. The gentleman who furnished the Court 
Journal a few weeks since, with the Convention of the 
Allied Powers respecting Belgium, has several ingenious 
conspiracies in preparation ; one of them a plot which will 
go hard with Don Miguel, and another of the darkest 
description, which will require the aid of the Carbonari 
The bulletins are in a state of great forwardness for the 
Polish War ; and a foreign correspondent has engaged 
to furnish the proceedings of the Car]ist faction in Spain 
through the twopenny post An eruption of Vesuvius, 
and several shocks of an earthquake in Sicily, have been 
determined upon. Much interesting information respect- 
ing affairs in the East may be expected from an ' arrange- 
ment' to that effect with one Mr. Ibn Ben Mustapha, 
who occupies a high official station as market inspector 
of weights and measures, at Smyrna. From the extreme 
remoteness of China, the news from that coimtry can best 
be prepared at home ; — the Police Reporters do it very 
decently. It will be seen from this, that with our own 
comparatively imperfect means of information, it will 
require all our diligence to cope with such rivals. What 
are the common-place qualities of industry, honesty, and 
independence, when measured against the extent of their 
resources ? What is an accurate report of the Cornish 



Markets, compared with the discovery of a state intrigne 
in Barbary ? or the communications of an intelligent cor- 
respondent at Callington, contrasted with tiie recent 
despatches of a moustachoed spy, writing in hieroglyphics 
fh)m the Pyramids ?" 

"But even while we write, thoughts of deeper and 
graver interest are forcing themselves upon us. A few 
hours — and eighteen-hundred-and-thirty will be gone for 
ever ! How intensely solemn is the moment in which a 
year expires \ — ^in which we gaze with * lingering look * 
till imagination turns it even to shape, and we seem to 
behold it gathering up its mantle — giving a last glance at 
earth — delivering up its awful record — and passing with 
silent step into the deep of eternity ? With the lively 
anticipations of the future, what fond regrets mingle from 
the past, as the heart recalls its vanished treasures, and 
the * graves of memory* give up their dead. We have 
been briefly attempting a political retrospect, but how 
wretchedly insignificant are its objects in comparison with 
that moral retrospect which fills a contemplative mind as a 
new year rises upon the world But we are dose upcm 
our limits, and the train of thought thus opened to the 
eye we leave to be finished in the meditations of the heart-" 

" We conclude by expressing our grateful acknowledg- 
ments for the cordial support and co-operation with which 
we have been favored ; by tendering our congratulations 
upon the advancement of those deep and permanent 
interests which lie at the root of national prosperity ; and 
with a solemn recognition of that superintending Providence 
which controls and disposes all human affairs. To our 
readers, friends, and correspondents; to our contem- 
poraries, and the public at large ; and, above all, to that 
chosen band. The Subscribers to the Cornubian, 
each and all — we cordially wish a happy new year." 



With such agreeable contemplations of its doings in the 
past brief period of its existence, and with such bright 
anticipations of what would be done in the future, the 
Comubian entered on the year 1831. There was, as we 
have said, no dearth of subjects for newspaper discussion, 
but the question of the day, whether for journals young, 
old, or middle^ed, was that of Reform. To the merits 
of this question, no man was more keenly alive than the 
editor of the Comubian. He entered into it with heart 
and soul, no theologian setting a higher value on a point 
of faith as the articulus stantis vel cadentis eccksia^ than 
the estimation in which he held this measure as insepar- 
ably boimd up with the peace and prosperity of the country. 
His enthusiasm, however, on this subject, was tinctured but 
very slighdy with romance ; and if on the one hand he 
indignantly reprobated the policy which under an un- 
meaning reverence for ancestral wisdom resists all inter- 
ference with established good or evil, he denounced in 
equally unsparing terms the pretensions of men who played 
upon the popular passions by exalting Reform into a 
panacea for all human iUs, and who would place the 
franchise in the hands of every beggar in the community. 
" Freedom, " he observes, " like . Falstafif, has her ragged 
regiments, and at a time when her veteran forces are 
moving onward to victory, it is necessary to guard against 
the clumsy evolutions of undisciplined troops. In refer- 
ence to the contemplated extension of our civil liberties 
we regret to perceive some auxiliaries to the cause, whose 
assistance will be found rather an incumbrance than an aid. 


Our friends in short are becoming too numerous; aad find- 
ing some of them rather disagreeable company, we are 
prepared not only to give them the cut direct^ but to 
apprise the public of their character." 

This expression of feeling was occasioned by the efforts 
then making in some quarters to revive the scheme of 
universal suffrage, and had especial reference to a journal 
just started in Manchester, modestly calling itself '7^ 
Voice of the People^ and established on the avowed 
principle of giving the franchise an indiscriminate exten- 
sion. ^' Our own theory of Reform," says the Comuhian, 
''is short and simple. We maintain that the Commons 
House of Parliament should represent the virtue and 
intelligence of the nation. But in the present constitution 
of society, the elements of good and evil are so closely 
intermingled, that these qualities cannot be brought into 
direct representation. We are compelled therefore to 
adopt some conventional test by which they can be elicited 
in the greatest purity. Such a test is to be found only on 
Property. Whatever amount of property shall be ad- 
judged to denote in its possessor a sufficient degree of 
knowledge to estimate the merits of a candidate, and of 
independence to reject corrupt influence, constitutes an 
electoral qualification in any subject under the British 

The 23rd day of March, 1831, had been appointed for 
the holding of a county meeting at Bodmin, for the pur- 
pose of testif3ring to the king the gratitude of the Cornish 
people for the Bill then before Parliament, as also their 
entire confidence in his Ministers; and moreover of 
petitioning to the two Houses of Parliament that the 
proposed measure might pass into a law. This meeting 
was appointed in answer to a requisition which the High 
Sheriff had received, signed with about r2oo signatures- 
including between thirty and forty magistrates and derg)- 



men — ^in three days. The Camubian hailed the meeting 
as one which would result in a high day for the lefonneis 
of Cornwall. " Many years," it says, "have they dmwgji 
evil and through good report zealously pursued dieir 
course, and the strength of their mutual congratulations 
on tlie approaching day will be the earnest of an abundant 
recompense. The Reform Bill will withdraw a greater 
number of members from Cornwall than frcnn any other 
county. But as we know little of diese gentlemen beyond 
seeing their names in the County Almanack, our feelings 
will not be martyred by the bereavement It is well, 
however, that, being subject to a greater excision than 
any county else, we should express our acquiesence in its 
justice, for if le^^ are satisfied, no other part of the king- 
dom can have a right to complain ! " 

As to the ultimate fate of the BiU, our authority held 
it unpardonable scepticism to have any doubts at all 
upon the matter. The destiny of the Reform Bill it 
declared to be written as with light from heaven; and to 
be as distinctly perceptible in the annals of the future, as 
the danger of refusing such concessions had been seen in 
the history of the past But as to the manner in which 
it would work its way through Parliament — and especially, 
what kind of handling it would for a long time get in the 
Upper House, this was a question fraught with grave 
suspicions. On the second moving of the Bill in the 
Commons, it became evident diat the question would be 
forced to a division, and this might result in a small 
majority against the BUL Parliament would then be 
di^olved, and the '^moral feeling" of the country being 
brought into full play, a new House of Commons would 
carry every thing before them. For how could it be 
otherwise? "That the regular traders in the people's 
liberties should damour against a measure which compels 
them to relinquish their unhallowed traffic, is not a matter 


of astonishment, nor is it surprising that a few men of 
purer principles, but mistaken zeal, should defend the 
existing system; but that the joint efforts of the King, 
the Cabinet, seven-eighths of the independent members o^ 
the Legislature, and ninety-nine hundredths of the people, 
should be successfully repelled by any possible combina* 
tion of such antagonists, is too degrading an hypothesis 
to be indulged for a moment** 

The Reformers had met at Bodmin, and the attendance 
was respectable, although a great number of the agricul- 
turalists who wished well to the new electoral system 
were seduced by the fine spring weather to remain at 
home and look after their crops. In the meantime tiiey 
were given to understand that another voice was to reach 
the ears of Parliament An Anti-reform petition, signed 
by a highly respectable list of magistrates, and of members 
of the Corporation of Truro, with others of the clergy, 
freeholders, and inhabitants of the county, prayed the 
Commons of the United Kingdom to pause before they 
gave their sanction to a measure which was fraught with 
the greatest danger to the land. The petition deprecated 
''all hasty and theoretical experiments on a s)^tem which 
has been found by experience so consonant to the genius, 
so conducive to the interests and the welfare of all ranks 
of society in this favored country." The Comubian 
gave the petition credit for respectability in point of 
names, but demurred to its logic, especially in the matter 
of interference with existing systems. It remarked that 
''as hasty is a term of comparison, the petition should 
have stated the length of time necessary for the gestation 
of the measure. About fifty years have elapsed since it 
became a question of great public interest One genera- 
tion expected it, but passed away without seeing it 
accomplished. The greatest part of another has followed, 
and still we are warned to avoid a hasty experiment 


Times without number it has been discussed in the 
Senate, — ^literary men have canvassed it in an infinity of 
shapes, — and the national mind has more frequently been 
exercised upon it than any other topic. Still, the Legis- 
lature is cautioned against rushing into such a change 
merely upon fifty years' reflection ! How long, then, is 
the measure to be deferred ? Is it to be anti or post- 
millennial ? I Again, theoretical experiments are condemned. 
We are at a loss to understand this. Is not every experi- 
ment in its own nature essentially theoretical? An 
experiment is a theory put into action to try its e£fect 
It may be said that this is mere verbal criticism, but the 
House of Commons should at least be approached with 
intelligible language." 

On the 29th of April, the Camubian announced to 
its readers the dissolution of Parliament The Anti- 
reformers had defeated the Ministerial forces. Ministers 
had tendered their resignation, but his Majesty had 
determined that the country should now have the oppor- 
tunity of giving an opinion on the great measure. This 
again threw the opponents of Reform into terrible -con- 
sternation, and they made a 'Mead set*' at the King, 
*^ representing their own loyalty, the seditious designs of 
the Reformers, the purity of the rotten boroughs, and the 
danger of his rebelling against himself;" to all which his 
Majesty had said, "/ will never desert the people.^ A 
general election was therefore at hand, and our journalist 
deemed it right to give the Cornish electors a stirring 
homily on their duty at such a crisis; concluding a 
vigorous protest against the baseness of bribery, corruption, 
and intimidation, with the following appeal: — '' Electors of 
Cornwall, our respect for your collective judgment, and 
pride in the proverbial good sense of our native county, 
alike prevent us from dictating the course you should 
pursue in the coming election. The triumph of Reform or 


of Anti-Refonn is with us but of little moment compared 
with the triumph of your own purity and independence. 
You are our only party; the advancement of your 
interests is our highest aim. The candidates are before 
you. In your own minds is the knowledge which will 
discriminate their merits, — ^in your own hearts is the zeal 
which will give that knowledge effect Inflammatory 
appeals to your passions would be as insulting to you as 
degrading to ourselves. We have unbounded confidence 
in your wisdom and integrity, and find in them the best 
guarantees for your faithfiil discharge of the sacred duty 
which you owe to yourselves, your country, and your 

The election proceeded; and although Sir Robert Peel 
had declared that the national mind had undergone a 
re-action in respect to the Reform Bill, the returns from 
different parts of the kingdom did not tally with this 
declaration. Victory for the Reformers was certain, but 
"in the elation of victory the vanquished must be spared." 
In its issue of May 13, the Comubian calculated that as 
matters then stood the Bill must have a majority of a 
hundred in its favor. Its success in the Lower House 
was therefore undoubted, but what were its prospects in 
the higher Assembly? There had been an "unpleasant 
rumour" that the Bishops had almost to a man resolved 
to make a stand against it; but their lordships were 
warned that "ages would not repair the injury which they 
would inflict on the Church of England by putting them- 
selves in opposition to the virtue and intelligence of the 
community, if they thus repelled the intellectual and 
moral sympathies of the nation." Other opponents, to 
whose persons there attached much less of what was 
sacred, were handled somewhat more freely. "A add 
dinner was eaten, in defence of Anti-Reform principles^ 
by the Ultra^Tories of Essex, on Tuesday se'nsught; and 

TBIMLm^ t.^TT^Tl 

cfaensiiiii^ tbe? aai >:« in u \%'^i jiu. z i sziuz^ 
Thae is soae kbb il ms. T ^ Bi..r :;?:3r. r • xir 
who reoovoed £ju 2. ttuttt szd. " 1^ 
of poikdiaps; SBCmtmsr 2 hctpi 

. ■ A 

hOaialing sob5s aad &ul«l'' 

indeed grat mrm^srr am e. jeck r ic L.^^^ '^ js. 
Ultra sectioB cf Ajc-L.^.mr?Tt 12*1 >r3. i.-r' ,** i. 
lukeiraim ipeedb inicx tir ^'Xj^sr, y^i^ 
Loirer Hoosc, aod ck ^:i2 ^jjt «*: i«.'.v:: 

cated bf die j s xmtvm ' iiL csasir t£ mi. 3ixtr*x^:i, '^ V ^ 
fear," it s^ ^'. rgg lie i-t«r3K5r7 iiji ia ^-rirr, :• 
umimittfd faansdf vi± 'gsn x. vsz^xjt u. Vt^n*. ^^. 
with respect to bss ovr gyjir xl tut <:2!i«^ r -miir ^ 
remembexed tibat ciese s a& imgrTrg tlrt^^rpnrjt vrar :2: 
heading an amr is lio^cs 'X ^^1007. ant K^'ir^ v.rm, 
on to cextain defejft. Last vsaiirsL m: i-jr «=. 'xw^^^^ it 
the soond of 'flates and kc ssr^'vfeTi -' ir.19 tiir- n^cr-a 
only to the mdaadKiej Hrasc a mufiert anmfc. l«r^:«*rL. 
Sir Robert has ahrm pro&rEM^ a tiHa*3*3rjt it zniAr, 
opinion, and howeitr crr^ ht 222 frj':2£:>rxiLl'* i'U'^!;2»n 
his own tiieones, has etcr i&ui vjaatst t. tut -^s fn*T%>t 
The late dections nmst hzie cocriir'jsri uixl rgr XAt sv-y^;. 
in oppuaiti op to die sense of ttK cjc:!niUL.=7 . asbl v:ui 
this conviction, althnagh he maj stC 1± 11:1 ivx^ T&mx. 
the Bin, it will be witboot that acai'.tj cf vjot wiu^x £ 
possessed in the late pariiamcntJ^ 

Snch was the critidsni on Sir Robert Peefs 
and as the name of dns distinguished man 
become prominent in the saocseedmg pages of these 
memoirsy we may state, once for all, that by no 


Sir Robert's abilities and conduct as a statesman more 
warmly admired and defended — during the latter years of 
his statesmanship — ^than by the writer of the above extract 
In a conversation on the Com Laws, about the time when 
their abolition was virtually accomplished, he expressed 
himself to this effect, — "Sir Robert is a noble fellow; I 
should like him to be tlie perpetual Minister, and the 
'Hmes to be his perpetual exponent" Time however 
works wonders; for concerning the same Minister it 
was written by the same authority, many years before, 
that he had been tried by every party — had been trusted 
by all — had tricked them all — ^had betrayed them all. It 
is certain that at the period in question nothing was 
further from his thoughts than making Sir Robert an 
object of political idolatry. He regarded that Minister 
as the very type and beau ideal of the time-serving, 
slippery statesman, who had too much love to certain 
political theories not to battle for them with all his might 
as long as there was a chance of their being triumphant ; 
and who had too much fondness for standing well with 
the people, not to sacrifice his most distinguished hobbies 
if they could do nothing but make him impopular. It 
would surely require a wise head to shew us in what 
respect Sir Robert deviated from this policy in the general 
course of his eccentric career. He was the very apostle 
and high-priest of expediency; and if it be asked how 
we are to account for the honor in which he was finaUy 
held by the people, and the praise with which from every 
quarter he was so plentifully bespattered, the answer is by 
no means difficult . Nothing is easier than to forgive the 
political errors of those whose repentance turns them in 
the direction of our own views. The man who for many 
years has sworn by our creed, and has now got into a 
different way of thinking, — ^no matter how sincere his 
convictions, — he is the renegade, the apostate, the traitor 


to his principles; while another, who from the opposite 
extremity has just reached the point from which the 
former started — ^is a worthy and meritorious character, who 
is not ashamed to lay himself open to the influences of 
advancing light and intelligence; one, in fact, who should 
be held in peculiar honor, as having risked a great deal 
of obloquy in showing how much more he loves Truth 
dian what is called Consistency. 

As to this Consistency — a word on which so many 
changes have been rung— some sentiments will be found 
ebewhere which are unquestionably just, the subject being 
regarded from one point of view. It is contended, and 
reasonably enough, that consistency, as some would have it, 
will forbid the Jew to become a Christian, or the Catholic 
to become a Protestant It forbids a man to embrace any 
S3rstem in religion, or politics, or science, but that which 
he first adopted. With him, of course, there can be no 
progress but in one way, and should he happen to be in 
the dark nothing lies before him but still deeper darkness. 
It must be granted that the parties who have made the 
most noise about political consistency have clamoiu^d for 
they knew not what; inasmuch as no statesman can 
justly be called inconsistent while his practice is in 
harmony with his avowed principles, — how different 
soever those principles may be from the opinions ad- 
vocated at some other period. It must, however, be 
equally obvious that when every kind of tergiversation 
may shelter itself under the plea of present convictions, 
the circumstances in which such changed convictions are 
produced will settle to a great extent their moral value ; 
and also that the oftener a man changes his opinions, 
though in every such mutation he is bound to act upon 
them, he must be content to have his intellectual deputa- 
tion proportionately diminished, even if the virtue of 
sincerity is fiilly allowed him. It must further be remem- 


bered that whatever changes may come on a man's views 
on many subjects through a course of many years, there 
is a certain time of life when he is expected to have 
thought out various important questions, and to have 
some principles about him that may be regarded as fixed 
and settled, — ^principles that will give way to no "pressure 
from without" — that will command and secure his 
allegiance through every ebb and flow of popular favor. 
If Sir Robert had any principles of this kind, it will be 
an interesting work for some future historian to tell the 
public what they were. There was something more than 
wit in the declaration of Col. Sibthorpe, when the May- 
nooth Bill was under discussion, — ^that he expected to see 
the day when the right honorable baronet would be 
changed into a Turk and sit cross-legged. It is hard, 
however, as already observed, to be very quarrelsome 
with a man whose shifts and slidings have done such 
excellent service to our own cause. In Sir Robert's case 
it was peculiarly difficult, for on the question which made 
him the idol of the people, — ^the Com Laws — ^he had not 
only given the Free-traders the satis&ction of seeing him 
abandon his past professions, but had afforded them die 
still more exquisite pleasure of witnessing the confusion, 
mortification, and dismay of the protectionist landholders, 
who had trusted tx> him as the bulwark of their hopes, 
and had then tx> look on and see their strongholds broken 
down by the very arm which they had streng^ened to 
support and establish them. 

We return to the Comubian and the Reform BilL A 
majority of 136 carried the second reading in the House 
of Commons. But the House of Lords, again — aye, 
there's the rub. Editorial congratulations were mingled 
with tones of sorrow as it was stated that " notwithstand- 
ing the triumphant success of the Reform Bill in the 
Commons, there is still reason to fear its rejection by the 


Lords. A calculation which we fear is too accurate, 

makes it appear that it [will be defeated in the Upper 

House by a small majority; — a majority, we grieve to 

add, composed of Spiritual Lords. We can scarcely 

imagine a deeper humiliation of the national character, 

than that a system so replete with iniquity — so rankly 

luxuriant with the fruits of vice — should be upheld by 

men who are bound by the most sacred pledges to assist 

in its extirpation. The moral feeling of the nation — a 

tribunal superior to either Lords or Commons — ^has 

passed sentence on its abuses, and that sentence must 

soon or late be confirmed by the Legislature. Are the 

Heads of the Church openly to proclaim that their own 

morality is behind that of the age ? Instead of exciting 

the people by their own example, to the practice of severer 

virtue, are they only to retard the efforts which they 

should promote ? The public will use short arguments 

with the Bishops. We cannot hear from fA^m of the 

beneficial working of bad systems; — ^we cannot admit 

tAar advocacy of the hollow doctrine of expediency. 

They stand on other ground, and our appeal goes at once 

to the Law and to the Testimony; and if the abuses of the 

Representation do not stand condemned by the whole 

tenor of revealed Truth, we will cheerfiilly submit to their 

continuance. We do not hesitate to assert that every 

vote which the Spiritual Lords record against Reform, 

will be a disgiuce to the Establishment, an insult to the 

nation, and a libel on the Christian faith." 

Amid the perplexities into which the editorial mind was 
thus occasionally thrown by the conduct of obedient 
Commons and refiractory Bishops, the never-failing watch- 
word was always at hand — ** Success is certain ! " and 
with this the Comubian closed up the first year of its labors. 
'' Yes, the Bill must pass ; and fix)m it, as fix)m a fountain 
of strength and purity, will flow blessings of incalculable 


benefit to our country. It will purify the temple of Justice^ 
extend the triumphs of freedom, and remove the unac- 
ceptable offerings heaped on the altars of Religion* It 
will break down the artificial distinctions which give wealth 
an ascendancy over wisdom, and enable worth and talent, 
wherever found, to exercise their legitimate influence on 

The next issue of the Journal had a long leader of two 
columns headed, somewhat prematurely, **The Fall of 
Toryism,'* but mainly dealing with the merits of the general 
question. The Bill had been read a third time in the House 
of Commons, and carried by a majority of 109. " Every 
thing," says the Comubian, ** that could be urged against 
the Bill, was offered by Sir Robert Peel, in his very best style. 
The hon. baronef s arguments were all based on the prin- 
ciple that a system under which the country has prospered 
well ought not to be altered. That the country has pros- 
pered under the borough system, we all know; — ^the 
question is, whether its prosperity is in consequence of that 
system ; and this he did not find it convenient to dwell 
upon. But why is he not true to his own principles? 
The country prospered under the criminal laws which he 
recently swept away with his own sacrilegious luind. It 
prospered under the civil disabilities of the Catholics — 
why did he consent to their removal ? Sir Roberf s ^ther 
did not use this logic when that great mechanical inven- 
tion was offered him which so rapidly improved the 
manufacture of cotton. He did not object, that as the 
trade had prospered so well under the old manufacture, 
there was no occasion for a change, but adopted the 
invention, and realized the fortune which enables his son 
to declaim in Parliament against a departure from old 

A fortnight after the article headed ''The Fall of 
Toryism" came another headed "Defeat of the Reform 


Bill." — " With feelings in which we are at a loss to say 
whether shame, sorrow, or indignation predominates, we 
record the mournful intelligence that the Reform Bill was 
rejected by the Peers, on Saturday last, by a majority of 

Sad result of the new and triumphant election ! Deplor- 
able issue of Royal patriotism ! Melancholy turn-up after 
all the solemn expostulation with the Lords Spiritual ! 
Not that the measure could ultimately fail ; but there 
must be a needless interim in which no blessings would 
be flowing from '' this fountain of strength and purity" — ^in 
which the temple of Justice would be still unpurged — ^in 
which the triumphs of Freedom would remain stationary — 
in which a great number of unacceptable offerings would 
be again " heaped upon the altar of Religion." But there 
was strong consolation in the cup of sorrow. " The Min- 
istry will not desert the King nor the People. We trust 
they will not be slow in adopting the only constitutional 
means of carrying the Bill through the Upper House. 
What have they to fear ? the offended dignity of a few 
Tory lords, and the outcry of a few slanderous journals ? 
And how soon will their murmurs be quelled by the 
grateful acclamations of a united people! Can any 
man soberly contemplate the present state of the country, 
smarting under a sense of insult and oppression,-^the 
position of the House of Commons, standing self- 
convicted in the eyes of the nation, and severed from the 
House of Peers — and the consequences which must 
result from such a disordered state of things, — and 
beli«ve that any constitutional means, however unusual, 
should not be resorted to, rather than permit its con- 
tinuance? Their lordships appear to be extremely sensi- 
tive on the score of intimidation, but, as Lord Brougham 
happily observed, the most unworthy fear is that of being 
thought afraid. We have somewhere read of an old 


gentleman who was accustomed to do the most extrava- 
gant things because people should not think he was ruled 
by his wife; and the jealousy which the Peers display 
respecting the control of public opinion seems to act on 
them much in the same manner. But at this awfiil crisis 
such fears should be flung to the winds, instead of being 
interposed between a nation and its rights. It is probable 
that the intentions of Ministers will be disclosed before 
the publication of oar next number. We wait with 
intense anxiety, in which the whole country participates, 
for the result of their councils, and in the interim console 
ourselves with a firm beUef that they are detsruined to 


In the early part of December, the Parliament was 
again opened, and the Royal Speech announced that his 
Majesty felt it his duty in the first place to recommend 
to the most careful consideration of the Commons the 
measures to be proposed for a reform in the Commons 
House of Parliament "A speedy and satisfactory settle- 
ment of this question becomes daily of more pressing 
importance to the security of the State, and to the con- 
tentment and wel^ire of my people." Lord John Russell 
brought his new Bill in the House, the second reading of 
which stood over for the i6th. The Camuhian of this 
date observes: — "The Rb-action is come, and in the 
right quarter. We congratulate our readers on the altered 
tone of the House of Lords respecting the Reform 
question. On the first day of the session. Lord Eldon, 
the Duke of Buckingham, and Earl Harrowby — ^the only 
speakers on the Opposition side — distinctly pledged 
themselves to a consideration of the new bill, on its 
own proper merits, without reference to the discussion 
of last session, and with due regard to the feelings of 
the people. We may be too sanguine, but the admis- 
sions made by these noblemen — the recantations of some 


of the Bishops — the influence which the continued high 
tone of popular feeling, and strength of public opinion 
must surely, though silently, have exerted on the 
minds of the Peers since last session, inspire us with 
a cheering hope that the Parliament now assembled 
will consummate the triumph of the healing measure." 
Favorably, however, as matters were progressing, a voice 
from Falmouth was heard rousing the somewhat languid 
energies of the Parliament, and assuring the Commons 
that nothing but a still more vigorous course of action 
would meet the exigencies of the case. There was too 
much small talk, too much accusatory and recriminatory 
palaver; and they were assured that **the people of 
England witness these factious delays with inexpressible 
disgust They are tired of the eternal repetitions of Sir 
Robert Peel's magnificent common-place, of Sir Har- 
lequin Wetherell's abortive humour, of Mr. Crokefs 
captious conceits, and the servile echoes of their followers, 
from the ludicrous choler of Col. Sibthorpe down to the 
idiot gabble of the hero of Peterloo." No wonder that 
after such an objurgation as this, there was a more steady 
attention to business. A majority of ii6 again carried 
the Bill through the Commons, and again the attention of 
the country was "directed with distressing anxiety to the 
House of Lords." It was believed that the Tories were 
as sour as ever, hating the Ministers and the Bill with all 
their might Dr. Phillpotts, the Bishop of Exeter, had 
taken up the subject "with an acrimony of personal 
feeling that was truly disgraceful." In short, "all hopes 
of conciliating the Peers are at an end, and the Bill — 
may we not add, the country — ^has no chance of salvation 
but in the prompt and vigorous measures on the part of 
the Cabinet to prevent a collison between the two Houses, 
and the consequent disruption of the Government." 
At length the Bill passed its second reading in the 


Lords by a majority c^ 9, which as compared with an 
opposing majority of 41 in the last session, gave no small 
cause for triumph. There was, however, as yet no 
security that the nation would get much more than a 
nominal Reform, unless everybody was wide awake. 
" The Peers" says the Camubian, " will go into Com- 
mittee on the Bill at their first meeting after the Easter 
recess, when it is to be feared ** — and certainly the 
prospect was not a pleasant one — "that without an 
accession to their number, ihey will expunge every clause 
to which any value can be attachedP The only hope was 
that Earl Grey, by the exercise of the power with which 
there was no doubt the King had invested him, would 
take care that the Bill should be safe. 

Fresh sorrows were awaiting the unhappy Reform Bill. 
On May 15, it was announced that Earl Grey's Minis- 
try WAS DISSOLVED. The Bill had been roughly handled, 
the King had been advised to increase the Peerage, and 
could not consent Ministers had resigned. 

They were not long, however, in being re-instated. 
Lord L)nidhurst had been commissioned to construct a 
government, but nobody would join his administrarion. 
The task was then transferred to the Duke of Wellington, 
and tl>is circumstance afforded the Comubian a very 
pleasant subject for comment ''^ Great was the exultation 
of the Conservatives at the prospect of enlisting under 
the great military commander. True, it was, that his 
Majesty had dogged the offer of the Premiership with the 
condition that whoever accepted it must pledge himself 
to carry an extensive measure of Reform, and equally 
true it was that his Grace of Wellington had repeatedly 
and solemnly protested that he never could assent, not 
merely to an extensive but even to the most diminutive 
change in the representation. It was therefore said by 


all plain>spoken, straightforward, thinking people that the 
Duke could not vault into the seat of power but by so 
prodigious a flying leap as they thought him incapable of 
performing. But his Grace is an adroit tactician. When 
Lord Lyndhurst waited on him, it was not, according to 
his own statement, the Reform measure, or his oft- 
repeated opinions thereon, that riveted his attention, but 
the forlorn condition of his Majesty! The King, he says, 
was left *^ all alone." This was touching. It was in vain 
that such trivial matters as the Reform Bill, or his own 
credit for political consistency, interposed to prevent the 
full flow of his generous affections. His Majesty was 
left " alone.* This one mournful image was all he saw — 
and nobly disdaining all minor considerations, he rushed 
to the rescue of fors^en Royalty 1 While perusing his 
Grace's pathetic representation of the distressing state to 
whidi his Majesty was reduced, we could with difficulty 
think of the monarch as being still invested with kingly 
splendour, but rather as a broken down Tar, with scarcely 
a crust in his pocket or trousers on his legs. So entirely 
absorbed were the Duke's sympathies by the affecting cir- 
cumstances of the King being thus left alone, that it never 
once occurred to him, amidst the enthusiasm of his pity, 
that when Earl Grey retired from office another party was 
left alone — ^die people (A England, — and in a far gloomier 
solitude. But thus it is, that even the greatest spirits 
are sometimes completely overpowered by one master 

The Duke's sympathy, however, was to no purpose; 
he could do nothing in the way of forming an Adminis- 
tration. On the evening of die same day Earl Grey 
stated in the House of Lords that he had " received a 
communication from his Majesty." This was enough. 
It was seen at once that the Earl was again to take oflke, 


and that as he would only do so on one condition, the 
Reform Bill was virtually settled. " We have just time," 
says the editor, "to congratulate our readers on the 
glorious prospect that now opens on the country. The 
Reform Bill is placed beyond all risk of danger, our civil 
institutions are purifying themselves from the corruptions 
of time, and in the amended shape in which we shall 
shortly behold them, they will form the proudest heritage 
of the present generation, and the noblest legacy we can 
bequeath to future ages." On the eve of the Bill 
receiving the Ro}ral assent the same exulting note is taken 
up: "To-morrow then, will be a proud day for England! 
A day made sublime by the great measure which it will 
consummate, and the gratulations it will diffuse through 
the Empire ! In the life of the most aged man, such a 
day can come but once, A light breaks in upon it from 
every past era of our liberties, and shines forward from it 
with a radiance which will grow brighter and brighter 
through succeeding ages. It requires no pomp of words 
to depict the grateful emotion which swells the breast of 
every lover of his country at the near prospect of this 
august measure. We content ourselves witii the expression 
of our fervent gratitude to Divine Providence for strength- 
ening our civil freedom by this invaluable gift, and of our 
solemn aspirations that it may accelerate the advancement 
of national prosperity, and the great interests of hiunan 

On Monday, June 4th, the third reading of the Bill 
was carried in the House of Lords by a majority of 106 
against 22. It received the Royal sanction on the 
following Thursday, and another voice of congratulation 
announced that " it is now part and parcel of tiie British 
Constitution,— the inalienable inheritance of every Eng- 
lishman. Henceforth the people and the Government 


can have but one interest, and as the barrier that 
separated Whigs from Tories is now overthrown, we 
trust the nominal distinction will perish with it England 
wants but one party — the party of Truth and Justice; 
and but one code of policy — the eternal laws of right 
and wrong. Our civil liberties are now established on 
an imperishable basis, and henceforward the Conserva- 
tive motto shall be ours — Nolumus l^es Anglia mutare^ 



The Reform Bill of 1852, as a matter of political history, 
requires no notice in these pages, and has been dwelt 
npon at no greater length than was necessary fixnn its 
relation to the intellectual career of one who was at that 
time conducting a public journal in Cornwall For the 
other subjects discussed in the columns of tiie ComuMan 
3, passing glance must suffice. To the mind so jealous of 
the liberties of Englishmen tiiere would naturally be the 
feeling of high indignation against all despots who stood 
chargeable with tiie wrongs of what have been elegantiy 
termed "oppressed nationalities;'' and accordingly, the 
cause of Poland, at that time struggling to throw off the 
yoke of Russia, had an ardent champion in the Fal- 
mouth organ. " The dismemberment of Poland," it said, 
"was an act which stands alone in the annals of crime. 
History records it as the most signal atrocity of un- 
provoked power. The day following that on which the 
Emperor of Germany, the Empress of Russia, and the 
King of Prussia, signed the articles which appropriated 
their shares of the spoils, fAey should have ornamented the 
highest gallows in Europe, as land pirates of the first 
eminence.^ — " No law, human or divine, annexes Poland 
to the neighbouring powers. Obtained by plunder, and 
held by brute force, she can only be reconquered by 
similar iniquity — ^by an open avowal that might shall be 
superior to right, and that the happiness of a nation shall 
be sacrificed to ravenous ambition." 

This is strong language, but was fully justified in the 
writer's opinion by the oppression and wrongs of a 
country where no individual was allowed to go out of his 


hoase after 9 p.m., without a lantern; where not more 
than three persons were allowed to meet out of their own 
dwellings upon any pretence whatever, so that ''four old 
women, detected over a cup of tea, might be arrested by 
the gensdarmes and have their tongues silenced in a state 
fortress." The Polish cause, however, was supposed to 
be in a very hopeful condition. The nobles, the clergy, 
and the common laborers, were joined together in making 
trenches and fortifications, and the Jews had suspended 
business for a time to take up arms. An army of 10,000 
Lithuanians had swelled their forces, and as Nicholas had 
offered the Poles six weeks to consider what they would 
do, the offer was gladly accepted, as affording a very 
precious interval for the strengthening of all the resources 
they could command in the accomplishment of their 
object It was high time for the Czar to look about him, 
for large bodies of his own subjects were copying Polish 
morals; no less than 120,000 of his troops having refused 
to act against Poland, while at Wilna there was the 
breaking out of an open insurrection. The Poles would 
certainly raise about 100,000 disciplined troops, and twice 
that number of the peasantry, armed with scythes and 
flaming with patriotic zeal, would cut their way to freedom 
with a power that Muscovy would resist to small purpose. 
The people had published a manifesto declaring that if 
Poland was to fall beneath the ruins of its towns and the 
bodies of its defenders, the enemy should reign only over 
deserts. The Camubiatis manifesto, two months after- 
wards, was as follows: — 

'' The Poles are still keeping their enemies at bay, and 
even occasionally venturing on the offensive. The Russian 
troops are evidently disordered, and some of them have 
retreated along the Volhynian firontiers. It is also 
reported that the Polish insurrection is becoming more 
general throughout the provinces. Though these events 


are far from being decisive, they animate our hope for 
these brave people. Whether they will at present 
succeed in extricating themselves from the robber grasp 
of Russia, is still a fearful question; but it is gratifying 
to know that they have at least the power of deeply 
wounding the hand that fetters them." 

"But though the struggles of Poland may be in- 
. effectual for the time, they will not have been made in 
vain. The cause of freedom has received an impulse 
of incalculable energy, and the hearts of millions are 
cherishing a deeper sense of their country's wrongs. 
Noble efforts are never wholly lost There is a divine 
power in the spirit of liberty, by which, even when it 
seems destroyed, it is only mingling with new elements 
of strength and preparing for sterner warfare. The 
haughty Russian shall yet know that a nation which wills 
its own freedom is a fearful antagonist War may give 
him a temporary conquest, but Poland has all the means 
of salvation. Her literature, preserved through a night 
of bondage — burning indignation against her spoiler, 
bequeathed from sire to son through successive genera- 
tions — ^the chivalrous spirit of her children, gathering 
strength from every conflict — and the voices of the dead? 
mightier than thos^ of the living; — ^we are slow to believe 
that over all these despotism will ultimately triumph. 
The legions of the Czar present an imposing front, but 
we know of what discordant elements tyxdmny is com- 
posed. His deeds are registered in heaven, and the pro- 
gress of retributive justice is not the less certain because 
indistinctly discernible. The stars in their courses fought 
against Sisera, and more than human power is enlisted 
on the side of the oppressed." 

Gratifying intelligence was soon announced The battle 
of Praga had given the Poles a most triumphant success. 
It could hardly be doubted that Polish independence 


would soon be achieved. For several weeks subsequently, 
the Prussian armies were kept at bay, and the Emperor 
was said to be " sitting on the throne of his frozen Capital 
like a sorcerer bereft of his enchantments." Then we 
were told that " intelligence from Poland is less satisfac- 
tory than usual." There was a rumor that the Russians 
had crossed the Vistula and were advancing towards War- 
saw ; while, to make matters worse, the civil and military 
authorities at that place were quarrelling among themselves. 
Finally, under date, Oct 21, 1 831, we have among the 
" Notes of the Week" the news that " the remains of the 
Polish army are completely routed, and the independence 
of Poland destroyed." 

The kindred question of Colonial Slavery had been treated 
with a stirring article in the first number of the journal. The 
subject was resumed a fortnight afterwards, in anticipation 
of a measure to be proposed in the ensuing Parliament 
"We feel it necessary to recur to this question" (Oct 15, 
1830) "in consequence of the early period at which 
Parliament will assemble. Every day we receive new 
proofs of its having created fresh and vigorous excite- 
ment in the public mind. A glow of generous enthusiasm 
is kindling throughout the land. There is scarcely a town 
or village which is not lifting up its voice against a con- 
tinuance of the system. Its iniquity seems to be felt as 
an individual as well as a national disgrace; and if ever the 
solemn remonstrance of a whole nation availed in removing 
a blot from its dishonoured brow, the ensuing session will 
spare all fiiture parliaments the trouble of deciding whether 
the prime rights of man are immutable, or change with 
the color of the skin. There is also a deepening convic- 
tion that the only efficient remedy consists in specifying 
a day, after which all slave-bom children bom in British 
dominions shall be free ; and another, on which Slavery 
shall become wholly extinct. Fatal experience has proved 


the futility of grappling with its evils in detail We have 
been long enough attempting to dove-tail its atrocities 
into rules of equity — ^to reconcile the interests of the slave 
and his holder by mingling the essential principles of good 
and evil — a combination as happy as that of the iron and 
clay in the feet of Nebuchadnezzar's image. The strength 
of the remedy must be measured by the magnitude of the 
vice. If Slavery were a system of doubtful character — if 
its horrors were occasionally relieved by signal benefits — 
if gleams of gladness sometimes lit up its frowning visage 
— ^we might pause in the adoption of any sweeping 
measure. But the history of Slavery is the history of 
crime, of foul injustice, of pitiless oppression. Its evils 
can be met by no practical redress. ' I cannot hear/ 
said Burke, ^ of a mitigation of robbery — of an ameliora- 
tion of murder.' There is no middle course. The slave 
must be restored to the full possession of his natural 
rights, or be avowed the victim of brute power. He must 
be placed upon the same moral elevation as ourselves, or 
be given over with the beasts that perish." 

To settle the afifairs of Poland and the West Indies was, 
however, a much easier matter than to untie the knot of 
Irish difficulties. The sister isle, that plague of states- 
men, that poser of politicians of every creed, had <Aily 
received the minimum portion of what she deemed to be 
^'justice" in the concession of Catholic Emancipation. 
To put forth their strength against the Established Church 
in Ireland was the natural course to be taken by the 
Catholic section of the Commons, and whatever ostensible 
schemes for the wel^e of Ireland were advocated by her 
mouthpiece, Daniel O'Connell, the overthrow of the 
Protestant Church in that land is generally admitted to 
have been the real object Of O'ConneU himself the 
Comuhiatis opinion seems to have been about the only 
one which an impartial spectator could form, — ^that he was 


the veiy bane and pest of that unhappy country, whose 
poor and deluded people were by thousands stinting 
themselves of daily bread to fill the pockets of an impostor 
who was fisittening upon their alleged grievances. That 
he had done his country good service in the cause of 
Emancipation, was not denied ; but the whole of his sub- 
sequent career was an evidence that agitation — and that 
for the most selfish purposes — ^was the element of his 
existence, and that consequendy it mattered very little to 
him whether the thing for whidb he clamoured were sub- 
stantial or chimerical, — ^it was enough if it kept him alive 
before the world, and brought a good stream of " rint" 
to his exchequer. "When" observes the Cornubian^ "he 
first broached the Repeal of the Union, we thought it only 
a phantom of diseased ambition. It has since assumed a 
more substantial form, and he appears to be pursuing it 
with as much vigour as he formerly displayed in fiirther- 
ing Emancipation. He finds himself, however, very differ- 
ently situated firom the position in which he stood pre- 
viously to the enactment of the Catholic Bill. He was there 
supported by much of the rank, wealth, and intelligence 
of the United Kingdom. Now, there are none but himself 
and 'the boys.' The CathoHc aristocracy keep aloof 
firom him; he is held cheap in the House of Commons, 
wh^e, in his Repeal scheme he has not a single suppor- 
ter; and he is rapidly losing whatever popularity he 
possessed among the educated classes in Ireland. He 
must himself be aware that the spirit of rebellion which 
he is now recklessly exciting among the ignorant peasantry, 
can only be a &tal recoil upon the poor victims of his 

Again, on the Repeal question, "There is one little 
matter connected with Dan's scheme, which he has some- 
how omitted to notice. He has not stated what solitary 
benefit can result to Ireland fixim such a measure. His 


harangues have been loud about restoring the 'original 
independence of the country,' — that is, as the CourUr 
says, to restore the times when Ireland had a king wear- 
ing a blanket and crowned with a hoop of feathers. If 
Mr. O'Connell will dispassionately look through the per- 
spective of his future life, we fear he would perceive at its 
termination something bearing a strong resemblance to a 
twist of cord For the plain staring fact is, that his designs 
do not stop short of the disjunction of Ireland from the 
British Crown, and the author of such a project the 
English language has but one word to designate. The 
ministers of revolution will tell the Irish people that all 
their miseries spring from the Union and may be relieved 
by its repeal. They will tell them that the great Mr. 
O'Connell can procure this repeal. Then the uproar will 
begin. Every toe from Raghlin Isle to Cape Clear will 
be capering at the prospect of being restored to ' original 
independence.' The dawn of an age in which every Pat 
will emerge from his cabin-smoke, and suddenly become 
great, glorious, and free, will be deemed worthy of some 
signal demonstrations of joy. Bon-fires will be lit up in 
a few farm-yards, and some ten or twelve magistrates and 
proctors will be picked oflf for the amusement^f midnight 
shooting parties. Petitions for repeal will be got up 
throughout the island ; every bog will send one. The 
debate in the House will be singularly short, and on a 
division the 'Noes' will be in the proportion of loo to i. 
The honourable member will then, as he tells us, make 
his bow to the House and return to Ireland. He will 
carry through the land the news of his defeat, and will 
appear everywhere in some appropriate costume as a 
persecuted patriot driven by a tyrannical parliament for 
seeking the redress of his country's wrongs." 

It was not, however, deemed that the wrongs of Ireland 
were all imaginary; and the Irish Church, whatever claims 


it might have under proper management, was regarded as 
a sore grievance, from ^e great abuses which had crept 
into it " Is it possible," it was asked, " that men are 
still to be found who deny the existence of such abuses, 
and who would perpetuate the system with all its present 
imperfections ? If so, we would ask such false friends to 
Ireland, why is it that the arm of the law is paralysed ? 
why is the executive power unavailing in bringing the 
refractory tithe-payers to account? why is even the 
bayonet ineffective in enforcing the demands of the law ? 
Is it not plainly, because these laws are without the sanc- 
tion which laws derive from men's natural sense of justice? 
. . . . There are two classes of friends to the Irish 
Church who will volunteer their advice in the present 
crisis. One party will contend that she wants no refor- 
mation, — that things must be allowed to remain as they 
are, with the exception, perhaps, of giving the clergy 
frirther aid from the civil power to enforce their demands. 
They will oppose inquiry, deny that Parliament has any 
right to legislate for Church property, and will uphold the 
existence of every established abuse. It is for tiiese men 
that the Church has already been jeopardized, and will 
perhaps be ultimately sacrificed. But the other and only 
true friends of the Establishment will aim to lay open 
every abuse with a view to its correction ; will accom- 
modate its discipline, as far as might be, without com- 
promising its mtegrity, to the advanced intelligence of the 
times; will base its claims to universal support on the 
footing of revealed truth; and disdaining the aid of 
secular force, will perpetuate its power and gloiy by 
identifying them with the highest interests of the human 

On the defeat of Lord Roden's motion on the state of 
Ireland (July 2, 1832), it is again observed, "We are 
compelled to make great allowances on tlie score of the 


ignorance that prevails in Ireland respecting die utility of 
the Establishment In this country its value is duly 
appreciated, but it is difficult to convince the Irish 
Catholic that it is incumbent upon him to support the 
ministrations of an opposite faith; and the difficulty is 
greatly enhanced in cases where the parish in which he 
resides containing neither a Protestant Church nor people 
— for half the parishes in Ireland have no diurdies — and 
where the money he pays goes into the pocket of a minis- 
ter who resides in a distant part of the country, and has 
not even a personal knowledge of his flock. We are not 
now entering on the question whether such an ecdesias- 
tical system is beneficial to the country or otherwise, but 
we maintain that the Irish tithe-payer cannot be convinced 
of its utility and his moral obligation to support it, but by 
such refined habits of speculative inquiry as he is totally 
unaccustomed to. Were he inducted into the abstruse 
philosophy by which it is proved that the benefit which a 
parish derives is in an inverse ratio to the distance of his 
personal residence, and that the established religion of a 
country should be that of a small minority instead of a 
great majority of the people, who knows but that, with 
his intellect dius illuminated, the Catholic tithe defaulter 
might confess his errors and hasten to lay his offerings on 
our altars?** 

The same authority held it as essential to the just 
principles of religious liberty diat no civil disabilities 
should exclude the Jews firom public office or from the 
Parliament In the session of 1830, Mr. Robert (kant 
had given notice that afler the Christmas recess he would 
move in Parliament for a repeal of the civil restricti<»is 
upon the Jews. On this subject the Comubian observes, — 

" The great principle of religious libaty will not be 
fully recognized by the British Constitution until emanci- 
patory measures are carried out in favor of tiiese people. 


When the Jewish Relief Bill was last before the House 
the aiguments against it were not particularly calculated 
to raise the logical reputation of its opponents. One of 
the most prominent objections to the measure was, that 
the Jews have not a national identity with this country, 
but regard themselves merely as sojourners here, looking 
upon Palestine as their ultimate destination. Now, ad- 
mitting the validity of this plea, it is at the best a very 
distant expectancy, and we are at a loss to know what 
practical effect it can have upon the dvil economy of the 
present generation. Because their descendants, one or 
two thousand years hence, are to locate in another country, 
it is, to be sure, a most convincing proof that the now exist- 
ing body should be debarred from civil privileges in this ! 
We presume that the country in which a man is bom, lives, 
and dies, is the only one widi which he is really identified ; 
and it would be just as reasonable for the Jews to retort 
apon us that we ought not to possess national rights, 
because in a hundred years we shall all be in another state 
of existence. Besides, we are not aware that their hopes 
of restoration to their ancient country have made them in 
the least indifferent to their interest in this ; or that they 
have betrayed any moral incapacity to enter as ardently 
as ourselves upon the active pursuits of private or public 
life. If the call were now given for a general migration, 
we fancy there would be many ' longing, lingering looks 
behind,' — many a tender glance at the Bazaar, and the 
Stock-Exchange, — and perhaps a handful of Mexican 
Bonds, in present possession, would tempt even Baron 
Rothschild to part with all his reversionary interest in the 
Holy Land." 

^^ By another dass of objectors it has been argued with 
great vehemence that the Jews are destined by Divine 
prophecy to remain ' a bye-word and a reproach' among 
the nations, and that in removing the penal enactments 


against them we shall attempt to frustrate the predictions 
of Holy Writ, and thus involve ourselves in the transgres- 
sion through which they fell. Passing over the dishonoring 
implication, that our aid is necessary to accomplish the 
designs of the Deity, we would ask, where are our creden- 
tials for assuming this retributive power ? In the absence 
of any express delegation of such authority, it seems a 
very questionable virtue to erect ourselves into avengers 
of spiritual guilt We have but little sympathy with men 
who discover in themselves such sublime capacities of 
evil as convince them that they are peculiarly qualified to 
become the ministers of divine vengeance. It would be 
a safer course to become ministers of mercy, and to obey 
the Christian admonition for doing unto others as we 
would they should do unto us, and so allow the unfulfilled 
declarations of prophecy to remain among the inscrutable 
mysteries of futurity." 

If the Jew — the denier of the Christian faith in toto — 
was to be thus liberally dealt with, it would naturally 
be expected that much tenderness would be shown to 
those sects which, though professedly Christian, are far 
removed from the orthodoxy of evangelical Christendom* 
At a meeting of the British and Foreign Bible Society in 
183 1, an attempt was made to exclude the Unitarians 
from co-operation in its labors. For reasons which will 
be yet more evident in another part of these memoirs, the 
Comubian indignantly denounced such an attempt : — 

" Had Captain Gambier's motion been successful, we 
can scarcely estimate the amount of injury which would 
have been inflicted on that venerable institution, and on 
benevolent associations in general. The exertions of 
philanthrophy would have been narrowed to the base of 
a creed — ^the standard around which the energies of the 
Christian world are rallied would at once have been 
Voken down, and the ground that should be held sacred 


for offices of charity converted into an arena for angry 
controversialists. We neither admire the taste nor envy 
the intrepidity of one who voluntarily erects himself into a 
theologiod censorship. Himself incapable of producing 
any system invulnerable in all its parts, the changes which 
he levels against other denominations are certain of recoil- 
ing retributively upon himself. Why so many clashing 
creeds obtain among the members of the universal Church, 
and are pennitted by Providence to retain their ascend- 
ancy from age to age, is a question which can only be 
answered on the other side the grave. But we believe 
that as virtue and intelligence increase^ speculative errors 
will be less harshly condemned ; of which it is a sufficient 
proof that the most gifted intellects have ever been found 
the most liberal. We cannot forget that the sect against 
which this illiberal attentpt has been made, boast the 
illustrious names of Milton, Newton, and Locke; and 
that in the present day it includes Dr. EUery Channing, 
of whom it may be fairly said that England contains not 
his superior in intellectual eminence. Unless Captain 
Gambler and his friends have an extreme predilection for 
catching Tartars, caution, at least, would be advisable in 
assailing a faith of which such men are the defenders. 
But we fear that the attempt to exclude Unitarians from 
the Bible Society was less the result of ability to combat 
their tenets, than of a desire which generally prevails to 
cry them down as a religious body. We have on many 
occasions been pained at witnessing a prevalence of hos- 
tile feeling in other communities against this particular 
religious sect It would often appear that the sacrifice of 
the latter was a peace-offering by which the differences in 
the former might be reconciled ; and such is the force of 
prejudice, that in public esteem the Unitarian certainly 
holds but a mid-way position between a Christian and a 
Jew. Such a tone of feeling is anything but creditable to 



the ChristiaB world. 'By didr frnils jc shall kaoir 
them/ is a criteikm of siocal coodnct sapeiior to all the 
doctrinal tests diat ever were invented ; and while the 
disciples of Unitaiianism, or any other ism^ can abide its 
scrutiny, nothing bat pxesnnqytion of die most awfiil 
character can brand them with opprobrimn." 

^ Placed in a state of existence where knowledge reaches 
US but in 6agpients» and where we are precluded, from the 
circumstances of our being, from the attainment of perfect 
truth, a catholic interpretation of adverse opinions seems 
above all thingps necessary to the harmony of social life. 
Doctrines apparently opposite in their tendencies may 
ultimately be found with a harmony of bearing which we 
now but little suspect In the productions of mind, as in 
those of matter, objects of the greatest variety of character 
may be consistent with unity of design. Tlie man who, 
because a certain creed suits his particular taste, should 
pass sentence of condenmation on all others, ought on the 
same principle, when finding in his garden the firuit most 
congenial to his palate, to cultivate that tree alone on 
which it grows, and root up all the others as heterodox 
cumberers of the soil. Such a man, when gazing on the 
rainbow, must regret that it is not all of that particular 
color on which his eye loves best to repose; heedless 
that to each of the prismatic hues are we equally indebted 
for its splendid illustration in lighting up the Arch of 
Promise. We conclude by expressing our gratification 
that this unworthy attempt at religious proscription was 
successfully repelled; and we trust that th^ annals of 
benevolence will not again be stained by the record of 
such anti-christian feeling. Of the sect in question, or 
of their distinctive opinions, we have but an imperfect 
knowledge; but the very circumstance of their being 
found in cooperation with our charitable institutions 
should of itself shield them fiom obloquy. We deem 


It consistent with our dut^ as public journalists to com- 
ment on circumstances which so stxilungly indicate the 
character of the age ; and we rejoice that the strength of 
sound moral feeling has achieved another signal triumph 
over the spirit of sectarian intolerance." 

About this period the Temperance Societies were 
beginning to make their claims on the public attention, 
and they were regarded by the Comubian as eminently 
worthy of support "Respecting the utility of these 
Societies,'' it says, "we presume there can scarcely be 
two opinions. The evil they would remove is too widely 
spread and too deeply felt to admit of denial Every 
village furnishes its martyrs to intemperance. The 
domestic happiness of almost every family, either in 
its own members or close connexions, has been broken 
by it If the victims of this single vice, — husbands and 
parents who have imbruted themselves and ruined their 
£unilies — ^young men whose prospects have been blasted at 
the very entrance of life as by the cup of a sorcerer — ^wives 
who have been brought to penury or the grave — and 
children whose very recollection of their fathers has 
been a curse upon their memories — if all these could 
be numbered, what a frightful catalogue would they 
present of the miseries produced by one solitary evil! 
. ... It seems abundantly evident that for this 
evil there is but one remedy — z, combination amongst 
the sober-minded and influential part of the community 
to discountenance the use of ardent spirits. We are of 
opinion that intemperance is less prevalent in Cornwall 
than in many other parts of the kingdom, but this is not 
a sufficient plea in favor of supineness under its encroach- 
ments. What town or village even here does not furnish 
a victim to the poisonous draught? How rarely do we 
find a family which does not reckon among its members 
an individual whom drink has not enervated or brutalized? 

13- MEMOIR or 

But the time is gone by for questioning the utility of 
these institutions." 

Another day, however, was at hand when the utility of 
these institutions would be more than called in question, 
— ^when they would be flatly denounced as an agency, 
not essentially wrong in itself, but ridiculously inadequate 
to the ends it was meant to accomplish. As far as the 
Comubian went in its deprecation of intemperance, it 
would do well enough for Temperance men of every class 
either in that day or the present But how truly it was 
then walking in the dim twilight of the faith, may be 
argued from the following preposterous heresies found 
in the very same article from which the above remarks 
were extracted. "There is nothing in the regulations of 
these Societies precluding the use of wines or malt liquors, 
precisely because they are of beneficial tendency^ and can 
do no injury except when used to excess. But it would 
be difficult to make out so good a case for ardent spirits." 
Such was Temperance in 1831 ; a plan for putting a stop 
to drunkeimess by doing away with dram-drinking. It 
was popular for a year or two, but the fact could not 
long be concealed, that to root up intemperance by dis- 
countenancing ardent spirits was just as hopefrd a sdieme 
as that of turning back the tide with a pitchfork. If 
drunkenness was to be grappled with by a system, total 
abstinence was obviously the only one that could meet 
the case ; but when that fact became apparent, a large 
section of those who had advocated with some zeal the 
first Temperance principles, were obliged to tell the 
Progressionist party that they could follow them no 
fiirther. The Comubian had ceased to exist when 
Tee-totalism was the order of the day; but had the 
case been otherwise, it would have declined the adop- 
tion of the higher doctrines. 

There is only one subject more which requires to be 


noticed in connection with this journal, — ^the subject of 
Parliamentary Independence, or the liberty which should 
be enjoyed by gentlemen in the House of Commons for 
voting according to their own convictions. Why this 
should be a question at all, may not be exactly obvious 
at first sight, but it is just one of those problems which, 
though simple enough when reduced to their true dements, 
may lead to every kind of contradictory conclusion if 
otherwise handled. The electors of a Lancashire borough 
had made themselves ridiculous by proposing to their 
expectant representatives a long string of questions all 
of which were to be satis&ctorily answered before they 
could be considered as proper men to represent that 
borou^ in Parliament; and in other plax:es a similar 
eagerness had been displayed for fettering the members 
with pledges on particular questions. On which it is 
observed, ''We more than doubt die propriety of these 
political catechisms. The reason alleged in their favor 
is drawn from the universality with which pledges were 
exacted in favor of the Reform Bill But the cases are 
not parallel The Reform Bill was an exception to the 
general course of legislatioiL It was the work of the 
People, not of the Parliament They, for once, became 
legislators, and exerted all their energies in one mighty 
effort to overthrow the abuses hy which they had been 
deprived of a free representatioiL But this object being 
accomplished, and the doors of Parliament being thrown 
open to the virtue, knowledge, and talent of the country, 
it only remains to select men who are most gifted with 
these qualities, to carry on the business of government ; 
and such men do not require the watchful supervision 
which ought only to be exercised over a doubtiid or slip- 
pery politician. The independence of Parliament cannot 
be maintained unless its freedom, when elected, is as un- 
fettered as the choice of the people when electing it" 


134 MEMOIR or 

In another part of the journal a quotation is given from 
the Edinburgh Review^ die sentiments of which may be 
regarded as endorsed by the editor : ''Although it seems 
absurd to contend that the opinions of the candidate 
ought not to be frankly stated upon all the subjects in 
which his constituents feel interested, yet this explanation 
is anything rather than giving a pledge binding at all 
times and under all circumstances. There ought to be a 
general coincidence of opinion between the electors and 
their representatives; this seems to be implied in the 
very nature of representation. But when a member is 
deputed to act for his constituents, he is to judge on 
each case, and to exercise a discretion for their interest 
and that of the community at large. He may alter the 
opinion formerly held and declared by him to his con* 
stituents; and he may justly act upon that change, 
believing that if they were aware of all that he now 
knows and sees, they would also vaiy their opinion. To 
send a man into Parliament fettered by pledges, is neither 
more nor less than to prevent him from dischaxging his 
duty of consulting for the public good. It is ntteily 
destructive of deliberation. It is in idxX deciding before* 
hand how the decision of a question shall be given 
when it is discussed; and among other absurdities it 
involves this glaring (Mie, that it renders the discussion 
wholly nugatory." 

These are fair specimens of the manner in which this 
question— confessedly a very important one — ^has been 
dealt with, not only by the high Conservative politicians, 
but, singularly enough, by thinkers of the most Liberal 
school. It is difficult to say why, on such a matter, there 
should be any misconception whatever; and it is quite 
certain that the logic which has just been quoted can 
lead to nothing but endless confusion. Conclusions of 
the most opposite character are arrived at, according to 


tile point of view from which the question is examined. 
It must be evident that on a great number of measures 
which on different occasions occupy the attention of 
Parliament, a member may consult nothing but his own 
discretion in the giving of his vote. What the feeling of 
his constituents on such questions may be, or whether they 
have any feelings at all respecting them, is a point on 
which he is wholly ignorant, and needs not concern him- 
self. He may here, as the J^evUw says, act for the 
interests of the community at large, — that is, he is at 
liberty wholly and solely to represent himself. But in all 
great questions that stir the public mind, it is a grotesque 
absurdity to say that men are sent to Parliament to act at 
their own discretion ; nor does it follow that by denying 
this we are driven to the other alternative of reducing a 
member of Parliament to the mere delegate of a con- 
stituency who have sent him there to do their bidding. 
His election as their fit and proper representative assumes 
that on some questions both parties are agreed, and that 
the course which he will adopt on a given subject is not a 
matter of doubt We are told, however, that if all this 
naatter is settied already, it makes the debate in the 
House nugatory, inasmuch as every man's vote has been 
determined beforehand A startling dilemma, truly ; but 
the fact is that hundreds of long debates in the House are 
all but useless as to any influence on the votes ; these 
Aave been determined beforehand. Nor is this unreason- 
able, for there are great political questions. which have 
occupied the public mind for years, have been discussed 
and canvassed in every shape and form through the 
length and breadth of die land, and which are felt Sy all 
classes to require no more debating in Parliament, how- 
ever necessary it may be that the etiquette of the House 
should be carried through. The great national parliament 
has done the work already, and the '' ayes'* and " noes'" 


have been virtually recorded. It is possible, certainly, 
for an honorable member to find that in the last discus- 
sion of the subject his long cherished opinions have 
taken wings and fled away. He had thought himself a 
Free-Trader, an opponent of Popish Endowment, and a 
friend to Jewish Emancipation; but is convinced after 
all that Protection, Free Popery, and fettered Judaism, 
are the true gospel He feels the awkwardness of such a 
change; he knows that these principles avowed at the 
hustings would have given him as much chance of a seat 
in the House of Commons as of a seat on the woolsack. 
Still, parliamentary independence is a sacred thing, and 
in turning right about he has the consolation of supposing 
that if his constituents had seen and heard what he has 
seen and heard, they would have shifted to the other 
points of the compass as rapidly as himsel£ 

When the Comubian had been about twelve months 
before the public, a remarkable contributor appeared in 
its columns. A gentleman styling himself Peter Pry, and 
professing to take a great interest in all matters political, 
literaiy, or social — a cosmopolitan, in fact, of a very high 
order — sent a communication to this journal of more than 
a column in length. He introduced himself to the editor 
as an elderly bachelor, living in a state of great quiet and 
retirement, but passionately fond of news, and intensely 
interested in all the passing topics of the day. The Fates 
having ordained that Peter should not be bom in 
Athens, with whose inquisitive population he thought 
he should have been most at home, he had nothing 
to do but acquiesce in an arrangement which cast his 
lot in a small village in the West of England Where 
that village was, and by what name it was distinguished, 
no one could tell ; for on this matter Mr. Pry's com- 
munications said nothing. How his letters found their 
way to the Comubian Office might be matter for profound 


conjectuie, for no post-mark, or messenger, could give 
the slightest indication as to where this personage resided. 
Thongh keenly alive to public matters, his sympathies 
with such provincial journals as he had occasionally 
seen were not strong enough to induce him to give their 
pages the benefit of those talents which he possessed for 
enlightening his coimtiymen ; but when the Comubian 
flashed upon his vision he saw in it so complete a reflex 
of his own thoughts and feelings on all subjects which 
had ever made him think or feel, that after due considera- 
tion he determined to write for it '^ It is needless to 
say," he tells the editor, '^ tiiat in selecting a journal for 
my memoranda I have fixed on the Comubian. In &ct, 
it is almost the only one among the country papers for 
which I have any esteem." His great admiration, how- 
ever, of the opinions and abilities of the Comubian did 
not blindhimtotfaefact that he himself was a little above 
mediocrity. He was displeased at having his first letter 
inserted in small type, and his wishes were so fiff deferred 
to, that his next communications were made to stand out 
as boldly as the leading articles,— of which indeed they 
sometimes took the place, the editor remarking, with 
wonderful condescension, tiiat nothing of his own could, 
as he thought, be more suitable to the time or mdre 
acceptable to the public. This was perfectly true; for the 
public, though possessed of not half the sagacity which 
newspapers attribute to that body, could not be long in 
discovering that wherever the editor of the Comubian was 
found, Mr. Pry would not be far off. The letters in 
fact served as a medium for pleasant talk on a number of 
lighter topics which could not be so well handled in 
another way; and as they form by no means the least 
interesting feature of the journal, they are here given 
at length. 



First Letter of "Peter Pry." 

Dear £ditor, 

I confess myself at once an Athenian — always 
hearing or telling some new thing. It is the very soul of 
me, and as I am now too old to mend — a great privilege, 
by the bye — ^there is no use in denying it So I have 
chosen for my coat of arms an ear and a tongue, and 
hope to make good use of both as long as it shall please 
heaven to spare them to me. I devour news; it is the 
very element in which I live, move, and have my being. 
My existence depends on the newspapers — ^if they "were 
discontinued I should not live a week. The first day I 
should be feverish; the next languid and irritable; with the 
third would go my appetite and animal spirits, and with 
the fourth all desire of life; the fifth would behold me in 
the last stage of debility; and on the sixth I should be 
ready for canonization. If an inquest were held on me, 
the verdict would be — ^as a friend humorously remarks — 
** Died for want of intelligence." 

But next to the pleasure of learning news is that of 
retailing it I cannot for my life imagine any thing more 
loathsome than a fellow who seeks information for his 
own exclusive possession — ferrets every cranny and pries 
into everybody's business— for the inhuman pleasure of 
gloating over his stores in secret Yet such creatures 
there are. I have read of a man who on a voyage to the 
Cape of Good Hope never spoke but once, and that 
was when the man at the mast head sung out ^^kaid^ 


** Curse the fellow," said he, " I have seen land this half 
an hour." Imagine the whole crew alive with expectatioui 
and this misanthrope keeping the discovery to himself ! — 
he ought instantly to have been thrown overboard. I 
would as lief be placed on the rack half an hour as be 
in possession of such a secret without the liberty of 
disclosing it And this brings me to the source of all my 
sufferings. I live in a village where nobody but mjrself 
cares a fig for what happens beyond the boimdary of the 
parish; — ^it is truly a heathenish place. The only two 
persons whom I can get to feel any sort of relish for 
general information are my neighbour Farmer Grogram, 
who is as deaf as a post, and a maiden lady, Miss Tibbs, 
who thinks I have what she calls " honorable intentions" 
towards her. But Grogram the other day fell asleep 
while I was bawling into his ear at the very pitch of my 
voice an account of the entrance of the Dutch forces into 
Belgium; and Miss Tibbs — ^like most old women, male 
and female, — is violently opposed to the Reform BUI, on 
which subject our arguments have been so acrid that I 
am compelled to beat a retreat from politics and confine 
our discussion to domestic matters. I am therefore 
reduced to a pitiable plight — ^the want of a medium for 
communicating my ideas. No beer-baxrel was ever in a 
higher state of fermentation than I am at this moment ; 
and I should anticipate alarming consequences but for a 
thought which has just struck me — ^that of committing to 
paper the remarks for which I have no oral medium, and 
sending them in the form of a diary to some provincial 

It is needless to say that in selecting a journal for my 
memoranda I have fixed on the Comubian. In iaxX it is 
the only one among the coimtry papers for which I have 
any esteem. Most of them are paltry, servile imitators 
of the London journals; but there are some exceptions. 


and of these the Q^mtibian is my favorite. It has an 
individuality of character, and a bold, honest, indepen- 
dent tone of politics which has won my regard from its 
commencement I therefore dedicate to its colmnns the 
fruits of my leisure hours. I am glad also that you have 
begun publishing on Thursday evenings, as it enables me 
to get your paper by the market woman, whereas I had 
before been at an extra expense of nearly three-pence a 
week in procuring it by a messenger. 

Perhaps I ought to apologize for the loose incoherent 
manner in which my notes are penned, but you must be 
aware that they are merely the random impulses of the 
moment, without pretensions to strict order or logical 
sequence. So here goes : — 

August 19th. — ^Debate on laws relating to Blasphemy, 
in the House of Commons, — ^much needless sympathy 
for Taylor, displayed by Hume and O'Connell — ^Taylor's 
case is a clear one — ^he burlesqued and turned into 
hideous mockery a solemn ordinance of the established 
religion of the land. The question is not whether that 
ordinance be of divine institution, or if even the religion 
itself be true, but whether any man has a right wantonly 
to outrage the religious feelings of a community. Most 
assuredly he has not There is no persecution in this 
case — ^Taylor has had no creed forced on his belief— no 
punishment inflicted for its rejection. All the outcry 
against religious tyranny is in his case a mere flam. Any 
man in England may believe if he likes that all creeds 
are fictions, all members of Parliament patriots, or all 
apple-women dragoons, and may attempt by argument to 
persuade others to believe the same. It is not for 
rejecting the &ith of his neighbours, or embracing the 
greatest monstrosities himself that he would be punished; 
but for mocking, insulting, and wounding the feelings of 


Others, whose right to the quiet enjoyment of their creed 
is at least equally sacred with his own ; and it is for this 
offence that Taylor is suffering the punishment which he 
richly deserves. 

Manumission of the Crown slaves in the West Indies. — 
The slavery question generally goes off in mere talk, but 
this is tUnng something. These emancipated slaves will 
be an eye-sore to the Colonists, and the pioneers of 
freedom to their oppressed race. The measure is a great 
good, and fiill of promise. 

22nd. — So the Dutch are retreating from Belgium — 
boasting of their heroism, too, at every step — ^like their 
kinsman in Knickerbocker, ''brimfull of wrath and 
cabbage." But, joking apart, it was a savage attack, and 
I would have given my slippers to have seen the counten- 
ance of the Prince of Orange at the first sight of the 
French columns. What a rhodomontade address was 
that which he gave his soldiers on beating their retreat . — 
and how oddly does it conclude 1 After a pompous 
enumeration of their *" victories ** until Louis Phillippe's 
troops interrupted their sport, '' But we depart," says his 
Highness, ''in conformity to an arrangement to that effect 
with the King of France." How excessively delicate ! 
Might not a felon with equal propriety address tiie crowd at 
his execution — give them a glowing account of his heroism 
— ^triumph in the recollection of his guilty exploits — and 
conclude by stating that notwithstanding his successes he 
submitted to be hung " in conformity to an arrangement 
to that effect with the Executive Power? " 

26th. — Wreck of the Rothsay Castle, — One of those 
astounding calamities which go like a knell to the hearts 
of the whole nation. Albeit not much addicted to melan- 
choly, the tidings of this mournful event saddened me 
even to tears. "At length," says the narrative, "after 


little more than an hour's resistance, the vessel parted 
asunder, and the shriek which filled the air as the waves 
surged over her no tongue can describe." What a multi- 
tudinous rush of feelings crowded into that hour of 
agony ! — ^the homes that were left for ever — ^the loved 
ones who had looked their last — ^the receding visions of 
this world and the tremendous realities of the next — all 
thronging upon hearts which were measuring life by 
pulsations ! And then the dreaded moment — ^but I will 
not attempt what Byron has sung so well : — 

" And first, one uniyenal ahriek thcro nuhad, 
Loader than the loud Ocean, like a cnah 
Of echoing thunder ; and then all mm hnsh'd, 
Saye the wild wind, and the remoraelesi daeh 
Of billows ; but at interyals there gush'd, 
Accompanied with a convulsiTe splash, 
A solitary shriek, the bubbling cry 
Of some strong swimmer in his agony." 

27 th, — The papers state that the Emperor Nicholas is 
unable to carry on his murderous war against the Poles 
without the assistance of Henry Hase, Esq. To the 
honor of the British capitalists it is said that none of 
them will contract for the loan, and some rascally Dutch 
house has taken the job. What a picture does this 
present of the real weakness of arbitrary power. Here 
is the monarch of the greatest nation on the earth, 
soliciting aid of a few merchants in other countries, in 
attempting to recover a revolted province. I am glad to 
see his exchequer run so hard, and if .the Dutch choose 
to lend him money I only hope they will lose it The 
Poles have a righteous cause, and every honest man must 
wish them success. 

But my letter is getting too long. Keep a column for 
me in your next, and believe me very truly yours, 

Peter Pry. 


Second Letter. 
Dear Sir, 

Cowper tells a story of a poor woman at Olney 
to whom some benevolent persons gave in a severe winter 
a pair of blankets, and she was so elated at the pos- 
session of the treasure that she could not sleep between 
them until nearly dead from want of rest. Excuse the 
vanity of an old man when I tell you that the appearance 
of my random diary in the columns of the Ccmubian^ 
being my first display in print for the last twenty years, 
gave me a titillation of nerves somewhat similar to the 
blanket-charm, and I was really unable for a day or two 
to subdue myself to the meditative mood. However, 
here I am again, and having recovered from the trepida- 
tion attendant on my debut^ I proceed with my stray 
memoranda. By the. bye, the last and only former 
occasion of my writing for the press was rather an odd 
one. Our vicar, a very venerable and learned but rather 
eccentric man, got himself somehow into a warm contro- 
versy in one of the magazines — I think the European — 
on the immateriality of spirits. The question mooted 
was, ''whether a spirit is as unsubstantial as space." 
My friend the vicar contended for the affirmative, and 
being an ultra in orthodoxy, inveighed with great indig- 
nation against what he termed the " alarming heresy " of 
his opponent, who contended that although spirits are 
incorporeal they are yet something more than vacuum. 
It would occupy too much of your space to enter into the 
details of the argument, which was protracted through a 
long and acrimonious warfare. At first I felt but little 
interested in the matter, but as the worthy divine was 
constantly talking to me about it, and being also naturally 
anxiou3 for the controversy to end in his favor, I turned 
my thoughts to the subject and gradually became more 
alive to it My fiiend, moreover, represented to me that 

144 MEMOIR or 

the sensation which it excited amongst literary men and 
theologians was prodigious; and moved by this quickening 
impulse I resolved to offer to the public my remarks on 
some points of the controversy which I thought had 
not been clearly illustrated. My simple-hearted friend 
applauded me as I went on, and my essay growing too 
long for insertion in a magazine, he uiged me to seize so 
hicky an opportunity for acquiring literary feme, by*a 
separate publication. Accordingly I bargained with a 
printer for striking off an impression, the effects of which 
on the public mind and on my own, may be guessed by 
the following copy of account which he sent me about 
four months after: — 

Mr. Piy, 

To Bknjamih Bbevibb, Dr. 

1808. To printing 560 oopias of pamphlet^ entitled 

" Thov^htt on the Exitlmotqf Oh4>tU iM Vacuo'* £12 

To lundiy carriage and postage 6 4 

£12 6 4 

By lale of 2 oopiea of aforesaid 8 

Balance due £12 4 4 

You may guess that this was a cooler. An hour after I 
received it I would have challenged all England for a 
man less ambitious of literary renown. The day follow- 
ing I gave the remaining 498 copies to the village boys 
for a bonfire, and solemnly renotmced the sin of author- 
ship. — ^But enough of digression. 

August 30th. — From the Parliamentary Report I extract 
the following : — 

"Sir Charles Lemon presented a Petition from Corn- 
wall, complaining of the operation of the Beer Bill 
Among the signatures were those of $4 clergymen. 


** Mr. Hume expressed a wish that the names of those 
dergymen might be piinted, to prvoe the warm interest 
they took in ^nrshopsP 

If, instead of lavishing his silly sneers upon the clergy, 
Hume had made himself acquainted with the workings 
of the Beer-Bill in this county, and also with the fact 
tiiat Cornwall is not very abundant in gin-shops, he would 
have treated the petitioners with less disrespect Joseph 
is never at home but when dabbling with figures. On 
most other- matters he is always at sea, and never more < 

so than when dealing with questions of morality. The 
nonsense that he utters about the Beer-Bill whenever it 
comes under notice, is as indigestible as junk. And 
most uncalled-for and contemptible are his 'tirades against 
the Bishop of London. I am not one of Dr. Blomfield's 
wannest admirers, but his attention to the details of the 
Beer-Bill displays a watchful vigilance over public morals, 
such as becomes his high and req>onsible station. "But* 
the Bishop," says the hon. member for Middlesex, " is a 
hypocrite, or ^9^iy does he not go to the gambling-houses 
and the theatres — to Almack's and Crockford's — and 
declaim against the amusements and vices of the rich f 
Why single out the poor man's pot of beer, and his game 
at skitdes, for legal prohibition, while the sins of the 
wealthy pass unnoticed?" There is an air of plausibility 
in this kind of logic, which easily traps the unwary. The 
fact seems to be this — ^that Legislation has no right to 
extend itself to the recreations of either the rich or the 
poor, any further than they trench on the peace of society. 
If some ten or twenty men choose to meet for the sake ol 
getring drunk together, and do actually make themselves 
brutally and beastly drunk, and then sleep like swine till 
they get fresh again, — what follows ? Why, the offence 
against morality is dearly a hideous one, but the peace of 
their neighbours is not broken, and consequently, t^ 



have no right to inflict punishment But if indien in- 
ebriated these topers were to sally fqr& into a town 
or village, molest passengers, insult women, and finish 
their frolics with breaking open a house, or robbing a 
traveller, then the recreations from which such offences 
spring become fit subjects for Legislation. Now, we never 
hear of rioters issuing frxnn Ahnacks^ of of burglaries 
concocted at Crockford's. A reigning beauty may lose 
her bloom at the one, and a young heir be plucked of 
his fortune at the other, — ^there is nothing in these things 
to arouse the vox populi. But I imagine that the evils 
of beer-shops are not so strictly confined to the persons 
who assemble in them. In Cornwall, there may not be 
much to blame, but in the Metropolis and through a 
large district around it, the evils resulting from such 
shops are' intolerable. The Police complain that the 
detection of thieves is next to impossible, by reason of 
the facilities thus afforded for concealnent In Essex, 
Sussex, Kent, and Hampshire, they are complained 
against as being nurseries of crime — ^the resorts of the 
most suspicious and abandoned characters — ^the refuge 
pf the poacher, the burglar, the rick-burner. There is, 
therefore, no doubt that they should be subjected to 
even minute legislation, and the Bishop of London is 
in the exact and proper discharge of his hi£^ functions 
when attending to sudi matters. Mr. Hume is a dever, 
diligent, and valuable man in his sphere, but that sphere 
is comparatively a low one, and he must not hope to 
see the day which will place Dr. Blomfreld, as a moralist, 
on a level with the Greek Bonds — man. 

Sept I St — Introduction of the Poor-Laws into Iie^ 
land : — If Mr, Saddler wished his motbn to succeed, 
why did he bring it forward at so unlucky a time? He 
must have been well aware that during the discussion 
on Reform the House would not enter heartily into 


die subject, and knowing this, he incuned die odium 
of making the miseries of Ireland subservient to his 
petty animosity against the Bill There is something 
inexplicable in all this, and inexplicable only to those 
who are reluctant to fix on Mr. Saddler the imputation 
of such meanness. — ^The debate, however, was skilfiilly 
conducted, and elicited speeches of remarkable talent 
from the mover, CoL Torrens, and Mr. SheiL Sheil's 
genius is of a high order, but seems too imaginative 
and poetical for the routine of parliamentary business. 
But these qualities of his oratory occasionally tell with 
great power. For instance, in the speech before -me, 
speaking of the misery inflicted on the tenantry who 
were lately ejected from the small fiurms, that they 
might be converted into larger, for the occupation of 
the wealthier agriculturists, he says — "The committee 
report that the ejected tenantry suffered affliction which 
it was not in the power of language to describe. But 
this they call a state of transition. Call it pestilence, 
fiunine, death, and men would tremble. But call it 
transition— envelope it in the technical vocabulary of 
fiscal science — and a directory of economists will speak 
of it with the tranquility with which a French philoso. 
pher would have expatiated on the 'process of regen- 
eration' which his country was undergoing through the 
sanguinary celerity of the guillotine. But it is only 
justice to add, that at. last men's eyes and hearts are 
opening. It is admitted that something must be done 
to alleviate these dreadfiil sufferings. Science had re- 
lented, political economy had been touched, algebra 
was giving way to pity, and theorists and speculators 
were no longer heard amidst the cries of a nation that 
stretches forth her hands for food )" 

4th. — Petition from Protestants in Ireland against the 
grant to the Roman Catholic College at Maynootfa. 


Really this is '< too bad.'* The Catholics of Ireland 
pay more than a miilum per annum for supporting the 
Protestant Establishment, and all they receive in return 
is this grant, of a few thousands, for their own College* 
Yet these generous Protestants — 700 Sir Robert Inglis 
stated them to be^ and sony I am that Ireland con- 
tains 700 such pitiful creatures — begrudge their neigh- 
bours this trivial acknowledgment for the support they 
receive from them 1 Sir Robert In^is did himself great 
discredit by presenting the House with so mean-spirited 
a petition. It was rejected with merited indignation. * 

So Hunt is gone over to the Tories I — and a valuable 
acquisition he is — a mob in himself! He seems to 
have found his level, with a vengeaiice. The papers 
cry out that his apostacy has injured the cause of 
Reform, and therein pay him an honor which he does 
not deserve, for it implies the possession of power which 
does not belong to him. He injure the cause of Reform ! 
—as well might a bat injure die science of optics. 

5th. — ^We are told every day that the nation is growing 
more intellectual I hope it is true. We are told also 
that the country is as full of poverty as of intellect ; and 
I fear this is true. But it is enough to make one doubt 
the truth of either statement, on looking at the purposes 
for which the public squander their money. There is this 
Italian fiddler, Paganini, netting sums such as are seldom 
found in the purses of our literary men of the first class, 
or on the subscription lists of our most useful charities. 

* In no part of ^Mr. Pry's lucubrations does he seem to have so 
strangely forgotten himsolf as in his remarks on this subject. The 
700 Protestants who oome in for so laige a share of his indignation 
objected, purely on religious grounds, to a Protestant Legislators 
paying sums for the teaching of Popbh superstition. Whatever may 
be said on one side or the other of thit question, it must bo obvious 
that to treat the matter as a moro moMif business is altogether 
ignoring the points at issue. 


At Noiwich he received ;f 800 for preforming three nights, 
and 500 ginaeas are to be paid him for attending the 
Musical Festival at Dublin. Dtuing his stay in London 
he must have cleared several thousands of pounds. These 
things do not speak well for our national character. 
Even a fiddler should have his reward, but the extrava- 
gant rate at which this man is paid goes to shew that the 
highest pleasure which an Englishman is capable of en- 
joying is that of being fiddled to ! 

If, as Coleridge says, genius consists in efurgy of the 
wili^ a great portion must be assigned to Lord ^ougham. 
The newspapers state that he has cleared the Court of 
Chancery oi business ! '^ It must,** said his lordship, on 
closing die sittings last Thursday, "be a great satisfaction 
to myself, the bar, and the suitors of the Court, that there 
is no business undecided — ^that there is not a single cause 
ready for hearing but what has been heard and decided 
— I may say that the whok business of the Court is 
amdudedP This is the man against whom such men as 
the Marquis of Londonderry, Lord Widdow, and Sir 
Edward Sugden, think to signalize themselves by vent- 
ing their petty spite ! The energies of Lord Brougham 
seem adequate to any task that can be assigned tibem. 
Bating its political bias, there is an admirable summing 
op of his labors in this month's Blackwood. ** Castlereagh" 
says the writer, " went mad and died miserably ; Canning 
touched the verge of madness, and the cord snapped. 
Brougham is tasking both intellect and temper to a pitch 
lar beyond either of them. * * * Then there is the 
cockpit, where the decisions of all the courts of Hindoo 
law, and Persian law, and Cingalese, and Malay, and 
Dutch, and Spanish law, and the Danish law, established 
throughout our eastern Empire, the Cape, the Mauritius, 
the West India Islands, and Demarara, have to be over- 
hauled Then there is the overhauling of English, Irish, 


and Scotch appeals in the Lords — the latter part, how* 
ever, being of all his business what he his most up ta 
* * * If we add to this the severe duty of dining out 
and giving dinners to ministers and diplomats ; likewise 
the imperious necessity of being visible at every levee 
and drawing-room, at every ball, hop, rout, or assembly, 
given or held by a great lord or lady of the right side ; 
moreover, oi being audible at every meeting about the 
abolishment of chimney-sweeps, and the emancipation of 
Blacky, and the persecution of Professor Pattison— rnxn^fff 
the simplification of common law and the rectification 
of equity procedure, — fucnan, the keeping of chancery 
lunatics, and the conscience (A King William the Fourth, 
— nemon^ Ae newspapers and the editing of Paley's 
Natural Theology in company with Charles Bell; fur- 
thermore, the writing of 'Friendly Advice to the Peers' 
in pamphlets, and eke the reviewing of the said pamphlets 
in the Edinburgh Review, — and finally, the building of a. 
back-ji|m to Brougham Hall — to say nothing of receiving 
and bamming all the deputations of all the confiisicm- 
mongers, and reading and answering all the communica- 
tions of all the quacks that think they have hit upon 
inventions of momentous importance, wheth^ in law or 
literature, or pneumatology, or geology, or astronomy, or 
gastronomy, or ribbon-weaving, or timber<leaving, or 
brass, or gas, or codification, or diurch-reformation, — 
when one takes in all these concerns at one glance through 
space and matter, I think it must be obvious to the 
meanest capacity that Henry Lord Brougham and Vaiuc, 
God bless him, saiagii rerum suarum — ^in &ct, that he has 
a deal more to do than ever bothered the brains <^ the 
immortal Walter Shandy." 

The vivacity of this extract must apologize for its 
length. I had several things more to talk to you about, 
but must leave them till next week. Don't clap me into 
small type again, and believe me, ever yours, Peter Pry. 


Third Letter. 
Dear Sir, ' 

I have been at the Coronation ! Nay, do not 
fitarde, but know by these presents that I, Peter Pry, who 
for the last thirty years had never peregrinated above ten 
miles from my native village, did, on the evening of 
Monday the fifth day of this month, ensconce myself 
within his Majesty's mail, and on the morning of the 
Wednesday following emerged therefrom in the metropolis 
of this mighty empire, being at the end of the said journey 
mintit one silk handkerchief, one snuff-box, a pair of silver 
buckles, and my best wig. 

I need not relate the minutiae of occurrences previous 
to the grand ceremony ; how I went in search of two 
old friends, and found that one had been dead fifteen 
years, and the other gone, a reluctant emigrant, to New 
South Wales, — ^how I hobbled three miles further to 
deliver a letter to a cousin of Miss Tibbs, and after reach- 
ing her house discovered to my great confusion that I had 
left the packet at home — ^how I consoled myself for this 
mishap by purchasing at a street auction, on my way 
back, a gold watch with chain and seals of the like 
precious metal for seven pounds, and threw the whole 
coQcem into the Thames about an hour afterwards on 
finding it barely worth as many shillings — ^how I clutched 
a rascal who was nmning away from a cry of ''stop thief," 
and how he knocked me down for my services — and 
finally, how I got on the river in a cockle-shell of a boat 
which getting into the wake of a steamer upset in the 
swell and left me splashing in the water, — " expostulating 
with destiny" — ^as Charles Lamb hath it — till picked up by 
a waterman — all these, with sundry minor misadventures, 
I pass over as things not worthy of record among the 
reminiscences of the great festival. Suffice it to say that 
on Thursday morning I sprang from my couch at four — 


having, by the bye, had several biting reasons for so 
doing — ^made myself look irresistible by five, and having 
made a splendid repast for a coronation breakfast, I 
fortified myself against the moisture of the morning air 
with a glass of whisky ; and at six o'clock I was standing 
by the portal of Westminster Abbey. 

I had been there but a few minutes, when a hand was 
clapped on my shoulder, and a well-known voice saluted 
me with " Ah, Mr. Pry, this is indeed a pleasure, — ^who 
would have dreamt of meeting my old fiiend at the Coro- 
nation?" As the words were uttered, whom should I 
behold but our worthy Vicar of former days, whom I had 
occasion to mention in my last letter. He left the parish 
about twelve years since for a living in Hamsphire, and 
firom thence, without my knowing it, had recently removed 
to town, and now belongs to the ecclesiastical corps of the 
Abbey. We had barely time for exchanging salutations, 
as he passed hurriedly by in the discharge of some 
ofiidal duty. ^' Take these," said he, slipping a couple 
of cards into my hands, " be with me without fail at six, 
and till then, Adieu ! " I glanced at the slips— one was 
his address, and the other — a ticket of admission to the 

Having presented my ticket to the page in waiting, I 
was conducted to a gallery, and firom thence passed into 
one of the vaultings, firom which I obtained a much better 
view of the ceremony. Here I sat four hours, and found 
ample scope for observation in the scene before me. It 
was past seven before the Abbey began to fill very rapidly, 
but fix>m that hour there kept pouring in a living tide of 
wealth, rank, and beauty, filling up the spacious aisles, 
and lofty galleries, tier above tier, imtil the vast edifice 
appeared instinct with life. The Peers in their state 
robes, the Peeresses, with their rich sweeping trains and 
magnificent variety of head-^ess, the numberless other 
persons of distinction glittering in their court attire^ the 


sj^aikling of jewels, sprinkling of coronets, and glandng 
to' and fro of eager looks and bright restless eyes, pre- 
sented a scene of vivid and surpassing interest Nor was 
it alone in the splendor and animation of the passinjg 
scene that my mind was occupied. With all its gaiety, it 
was one of those seasons of chequered feeling, 

" Wben plaaaaDt thooghts bring sad tfaoogfats to my mind," 

I could but remember that every foot-fall along the 
venerable aisles was echoed back from the tombs of 
those who in former ages were the actors in similar 
pageants ; and as memory reverted in succession to the 
princes, warriors, and statesmen whose dust was congre- 
gated beneath me, I felt the presence of the fmgjtity 
dead still more powerfully than that of the illustrious 
living. It seemed appropriate that this most magnificent 
of national festivals should be held in a place which so 
strikingly exhibited the intimate alliance between life and 
death ; where the decorations of rank and dominion were 
so thickly intermingled with the most touching mementos 
of mortality, and where it was literally but a step fix>m the 
throne to die tomb. 

Abont ten I was roused torn my reverie by the guns 
which were firing the royal salutes, and soon after the 
shouts of the multitude without announced that their 
Majesties had left St James's. As they approached the 
Abbey their progress might be audibly traced by the 
nearer and nearer applause of the acclamations of the 
people, falling in volumes of sound, wave on wave, 
against the walls of the edifice, until at length they broke 
at once on the ear startlingly distinct, and then died away 
in a confused murmur as their Majesties descended 
from their state carriages and were conducted to their 
respective robing rooms. Presently afterwards a breath- 
less silence reigned within the Abbey as the proces* 


sion moved onward from the western door into the choir. 
You may gue§s the mtense curiosity with which for the 
first time in my life I gazed on the various distinguished 
personages of whom it was composed The first foce 
that fixed my attention was one to which I could have 
sworn amongst a million — ^that of Lord Brougham. Yet 
it was not in keeping with the occasion. Instead of the 
gladness visible in every other countenance there seemed 
only the workings of deep thought struggling through his 
rigid features ; and instead of a chief actor in a splendid 
pageant, he looked rather like an incarnation of the JSdin- 
burgh Review. Closely following the Lord Chancellor 
came the Royal Princesses. When I caught the glimpse of 
her Majesty she was evidently much affected, but as she 
advanced up the nave her steps acquired more strength 
and firmness, and considering the novelty and solenmity 
of her situation she bore herself throughout the day with 
fortitude and dignity. I was now on the tip-toe of expec- 
tation, and was speedily gratified by a sight of the King. 
As our Patriot Monarch came in view my heart involun- 
tarily uttered " God bless him 1 " — and I believe every 
other heart as fervently responded. Amen. Never were 
the faces of such a multitude lit up with more generous 
emotion. The Crown, which lay glittering on the altar, 
was but a ^nt symbol of the dominion of William the 

It was no longer a pageant. As the King stood up 
before the multitude, and the Archbishop asked if they 
would yield him their homage, the voices that rang to 
heaven with a shout of ''God save King William the 
Fourth,** possessed a fireedom, pathos, and earnestness of 
tone which could derive no additional charm from external 
pomp. No ritual can be more impressive than the 
Recognition, nor was it ever more honored than by the 
kindling of loyal zeal— the transparent glow of patriotic 


devotion — ^with which it was accompanied on Thursday. 
As the King received the spontaneous homage and 
acclamations of his people, his manly breast heaved 
with conflicting feelings, and how long the struggle 
lasted between his dignity and emotion, Uie tears which 
dimmed my own eyes in common with those of thou- 
sands, prevented me from recording. Never before had 
I so sensibly felt '^ the divinity that doth hedge a king ; " 
— never had I imagined with what a close and living 
union the principle of patriotism may blend with the 
strongest affections, in support of the objects of its 

It would exceed your limits and mine to detail the 
minntias of the ceremony. Impressive as it was, there 
was certainly one part of it which would be improved 
by curtailment, — I allude to the Anointing. If this 
were confined to the royal head instead of being ex- 
tended to the hands, breast, armpits, &c, the rite would 
still preserve all its significance, while the narrow line 
that separates the sublime firom the burlesque would 
not be so closely approached. Most of the religious 
ceremonies handed down from our ancestors are liable 
to objecdcm on account of their length and minuteness, 
and to the Coronation service most of all does this ob- 
jection apply. With all its attractiveness, I could not 
but think it would have been more uniformly and in- 
tensely solemn by the omission of such rites as the 
Oblation, the investing with the Supertunica, the Spurs, 
and the Mantle, the Investure per Annulum et Baculum, 
and some others which, though they might have had an 
appropriate significance when first introduced, have long 
degenerated into mere useless forms. 

The putting on of the Crown, the presenting of the 
Bible, and the Benediction, were solemnities full of 
majesty and of sublimest reference. But the Homage, 


though of less intrinsic, was of more personal interest 
As the Peers ascended the throne in succession an 
opportunity was afforded for one of the finest displays 
of moral feeling that I ever witnessed It was favor- 
able for the popular feeling to be expressed towards 
each individual, and at a time of strong political ex- 
citement like the present it would not seem improbable 
that, amidst so vast a concourse, symptoms of dislike to 
some prominent public characters might be manifested. 
But of this there was not even a trace. The spectator 
might have imagined that all political animosities were 
dead, all personal resentment buried. As the Duke <^ 
Wellington went up to the Throne I feared lest some- 
thing more than cold indifference would meet him. 
But it appeared not only the season of forbearance, but 
of generous forgiveness. Never shall I forget the burst 
of applause which pealed through the edifice whfle he 
did homage to that Crown of which he has been the 
bravest defender. The shouts that greeted him were 
undying echoes fit>m the fields of Assaye, Vittoria, 
and Waterloo. As the remembrance of his achieve- 
ments flashed upon our memories, an accusing voice 
whispered that his name had been too long unhonored 
— ^his glory too darkly shadowed, — and as the acdaa^- 
ations rose, peal above peal, we seemed to be not 
only offering the pledges of his fiiture renown, but striving 
to obliterate the remembrances of our past neglect 

I cannot trespass on your colunms with an enumeration 
of the distinguished individuals who were marked by 
similar applause. Long and loud were the cheers which 
greeted the Lord Chancellor, and the noble Premier and 
Baron Plunkett were also honored with enthusiastic 
expressions' of esteem. But I am got to the end of my 
sheet, and fear my disjointed reminiscences are not 
sufficiently interesting to warrant me in venturing on 


another. I meant to have told you how on the evening 
of the next day, having booked myself to return by the 
Western Mail, I unfortunately stepped into the wrong 
coach, and bundled out, a little past midnight, before a 
hotel in Dover. I had also several vexations in taking 
cross stages from Dover to Southampton, the particulars 
of which I must pass over. A few miles from Totness, 
too, — but the paper is quite out, so I remain, yours 
most truly, Pster Pry. 

Fourth Letter. 
Dear Sir^ 

As you express a desire for the continuance of my 
stray memoranda, I forward this communication for your 
next paper, and whenever I may address you in future, 
will do so earlier in the week From several typographi- 
cal inaccuracies in my last letter I conclude you were 
pushed for time. They are however too obvious to 
require alteration, with the exception of a line quoted 
from Wordsworth, in which there seems to be, instead of 
a blunder, an effort at transposition by the incipient 
genius of one of your compositors \ and as I am at a 
loss to perceive the value of the alteration, I will thank 
him in future to keep his inky fingers to their own proper 

It is, I assure you, no light proof of my regard that I 
write you thus early in the week ; for by some unaccount- 
able propensity — amounting almost to fatality — I can 
scarcely ever " screw my courage to the sticking-place " 
until the moment when exertion is imperiously demanded. 
Throughout my life I have been behind-hand in every- 
thing. It began even in my birth, as I will tell you. I 
was a posthumous child, and was entitled by my father's 
will to a large property, provided I was bom within a 
certain period therein named. One hour after its expiia- 


tion I made my appearance ! Can yon imagine znyHun/g 
more unlucky? After I was placed at school, a predilec- 
tion to study natural history in the construction of bird^s 
nests kept me so frequently an hour beyond the time that 
even now I tingle at remembering the visitations of birch 
thereby entailed upon me. When I was about sixteen an 
uncle by my mother's side proposed to take me with him 
to the Brazils, whidier he was bent on a mercantile 
speculation which proved extremely successfid. I eagerly 
embraced his offer, and for a fortnight dreamt of nothing 
but gold mines, balsam-trees, and sugar-canes. A letter 
reached me, stating that the vessel would sail from 
Plymouth on the next day, at which place I arrived when 
she was an hour's sail from the land. Bitterly did I 
lament my evil destiny, while watching her swift course 
to the horizon. It seemed as though all the wodd was in 
advance of me by one unfortunate hour, — as though in the 
journey of human life I was ever to remain one impassable 
step behind the rest of mankind — I took refuge from my 
sorrows in love. Fortune smiled upon me — ^my inamorata 
was a paragon — the day was fixed for our nuptials. The 
hour came, and I arrived at the door as the next was 
striking — too late for the performance of the ceremony. 
I stammered forth an apology, but was answered by a 
shower of reproaches. I remonstrated — grew indignant 
— ^and attempted a bold front, but my arguments and 
person were equally levelled by a wedding-cake flung at 
my head by the brother of the betrothed. But I should 
tire you by relating half of the miseries caused by similar 
mishaps. Nelson said that he gained all his glory by 
being a quarter of an hour in advance of Time, and I 
found that all the misery of mine sprang from being an 
hour behind it It was in vain that I struggled to refbrm, 
and the ineflfectual effort was a main cause of my seeking 
privacy and retirement, in which my unfortunate pro- 


pensity could annoy no one but myself. Mais au 
repair; — I am forgetting my diary. 

September i6th. — ^The Lord Chancellor has given a 
valuable living to Dr. Croly, an act which reflects great 
honor on both parties. In strength of genius we have 
few men superior to Croly, and in versatility of talent he 
is unequalled. His mind resembles a tree which nurtures 
a graft of every kind of fruit In theology he has dis- 
tinguished himself by the most masterly exposition of the 
Apocalypse which has yet been given. In poetry, his 
Ittustratums of Gems from the Antiquey and his Af^el of 
the Worldy breathe of the highest region of the art. As 
a novelist, his Salathiel ranks among the first works of 
fiction the age has produced. Then he is a dramatist — 
his comedy of Pride shall have a Fall being the most 
successful comic drama of the last twenty years. As a 
pulpit orator he has acquired great celebrity. In politics 
he has long been known as first fiddle in the Monthly 
Magazine. One would think the man had half-ardozen 
separate souls in him. I can imagine him on a morning, 
springing from his bed to rapturize in verse over a 
splendid sunrise — then burying himself among a crowd 
of dusty commentators to expound a knotty text — next 
wading through the columns of a newspaper and con- 
cocting an article on politics — afterwards hastening to 
some large Metropolitan church to preach an occasional 
sermon, calling in his way to superintend a theatrical 
rehearsal — returning to furnish a printer with M.S. of a 
novel, and finishing the day with an Essay on the 
Intermediate State. Such a writer in the United States 
would be invaluable, as the Yankees would then have a 
great man in every branch of literature. 

I have said that his appointment does honor to the 
Lord Chancellor, and so it does as far as it is a reward 
conferred on learning and genius, and it is especially 


honorable to Baron Brougham^ inasmuch as Dr. Croly^s 
politics are bitterly opposed to his lordship's. At tiie 
same time it is deeply to be lamented tiiat an office 
which involves the serious responsibihty of a Christian 
pastor should be deemed an appropriate reward for one 
who has distinguished himself by merely itUdieUual 
attainments, some of which also are confessedly at 
variance with his sacred calling. Why are Qot more 
of the valuable Government offices conferred on men of 
literary eminence? Surely they are much more suitable 
than church livings, which belong rather to sanctity than 
talent But we must wait for mightier workings of pubhc 
opinion before these abuses will be corrected; and in the 
meantime we should be gratified that the patronage of 
the Crown favors intellect and genius, instead of heaping 
unmerited wealth, as has too frequently been done, on 
stalled arrogance and beneficed stupidity. 

17th. — Glad to find the Reform cause reinforced by a 
new creation of Peers. I cordiaUy concurred in an 
opinion you expressed in the Cartmbian at the time the 
Coronation was announced, that the performance of that 
ceremony — so suddenly decided upon — ^was less on its 
own account than to afford a plausible opportunity for an 
addition to the Peerage, which I remember you then 
stated would be made sufficiently early to meet the 
exigencies of the Bill in the House of Lords. The 
Tories, I see, are exclaiming against the measure as 
unconstitutional. This comes with a good grace from 
them! — from the party which for nearly half a century 
retained the royal prerogative in their own grasp, and 
used it only for the promotion of their own interests. 
Yes, it comes well from the men who during their balefiil 
ascendancy exercised as vile a system of political pro- 
scription as ever disgraced the country, — ^repelled fix>m 
office every man of expansive mind and liberal feeling ; 


while in the persons of the Bathursts, and Rosslyn$,.and 
Westmorelands, they offered a premium to pompous 
ignorance and mailed bigotry. But it matters little what 
a junta of comiptionists say against the measure, while 
it is approved by the nation. We may make ourselves 
quite at ease about the Tories; their power is for ever 
departed from them. 

19th. — ^Last week my head was so full of the corona- 
tion matters that I forgot to notice the letter of your 
modest correspondent AdoUscens. He wants to know, 
what are the advantages derived from a monarchical 
government? and considers that the long strides now 
making by republicanism make such a question very 
proper. My age and great observation, he flatteringly 
says, give my opinions weight on such a subject I trust 
it is not in my power to repulse any one who appears so 
amiably disposed, especially when his inquiries are tagged 
with a bit of compliment to myself. But he must be 
aware that the question he proposes involves a discussion 
which cannot be crammed into a nutshell. In the pages 
of De Lolme, Montesquieu, and Paley, he will find all 
the information he wants, and even an abstract of their 
theories would be too long for your columns. But 
AdoUscens also humbly prays that should he survive 
Farmer Grogram he may have the reversion of my friend- 
ship. Respecting this I can say nothing. Friendship is 
a flower of too delicate growth to be readily transplanted. 
AdoUscens will excuse my saying that his request reminds 
me of a scene in some drama where one of the characters 
says to another, '^ A sudden thought strikes me — ^let us 
swear eternal friendship l** The author of No Fiction 
says that he has seen the dissolution of seven eternal 
friendships. His own with Bamet was no doubt one of 
them. Besides this, whoever waits for my friendship 
until Grogram's death, is likely to wait a long time. I 


do not know a tougher, hardier fellow than Grogram — 
carries his age like wine. A few years ago he called 
himself an ailing man, — so much so that I bought a small 
farm of him for nearly its full value in cash, besides a 
life-annuity of fifty potmds, as he did not then appear 
likely to live more than a year or two. TTie very 
morning after our bargain was concluded I happened to 
enter his house, and was frightened at seeing this ailing 
man eating some huge poik rashers and swigging a deep 
draught of ale. Within a week or two he was as well as 
ever, and it has always struck me as a singular coincidence 
that he should have appeared so very ill at the time of 
making the sale. However, there is no accounting for 
such matters, and I have been so long accustomed to 
Grogram that I should much regret his loss. At the 
same time, this annuity is an awkward business. 

Bless me ! here I have written a long letter and have 
not yet said a quarter of the things that are in my head. 
I meant to say something about Sir Richard Vyv3^an, 
and his violent opposition to Ministers in the House of 
Commons. I am afraid Sir Richard is throwing himself 
away. Much as I dissent from his opinions, there is 
something about him I cannot but respect He is diligent, 
able, and persevering, and as a man of business I believe 
the county could not have a better representative. He 
throws his whole soul into whatever he is engaged 
about, — ^is sincere, honest, and high-principled to his 
heart's core. I have watched his progress with anxiety, 
and it has been distinguished by zeal and fidelity. But 
unfortunately his zeal is in a hopeless cause, and his 
fidelity is to an exploded creed. In the path he is 
pursuing he encounters fearful odds. Every step he 
takes places him in more direct opposition to public 
opinion. Every speech he utters is a new repellant of 
moral sympathy. The end of this is written as with 


a snnbeam. — Verhum saf, — ^the warning is from a friendly 

Here is Miss Tibbs coming, and a man waiting to 
shave me — I must conclude. Pray do me the favor of 
purchasing for me a bottle of Anchovy Sauce, and one 
of Mordan's pencil cases. Please ask Capt Mills, of 
the DraJuy what he would charge me for bringing down 
a hogshead of cyder from Plymouth. I forgot to say 
anything about Hunf s motion on the Com Laws. And 
now believe me, most truly yours, Peter Pry. 



Fifth Letter of "Peter Pry." 


I regret that my letter of last week reached you 
an hour too late, and am obliged by the attention of 
your publisher in returning it You will perceive that 
much of its contents are expunged to make room for 
some later memoranda. 

September 23rd — ^Death of Mr. Calcraft — I happened 
to light on this melancholy occurrence in the Morning 
Fast. The relation was in itself most distressing, but 
was made horrible by a howl of revengeful triumph from 
the Editor of that ferocious journal. How true it is 

" Fools rush in where angels fear to tread," 

and seldom have I met with a more revolting illustration 
of the verse than in the presumption with which this 
pitiful creature erects himself in judgment over a fellow- 
mortal gone to his last account Poor Calcrait, he 
says, died of remorse, — gnawing, withering remorse, — 
occasioned by his swerving from — what? — listen, O 
heaven and earth ! — ^from Tory principles! If secession 
from Toryism be a criminal apostacy, the country I 
suspect is rather prolific in heretics, for these said Tory 
principles seem to be getting into prodigious disrepute. 
There is something inexpressibly brutal in assailing the 
dead while their remains are yet warm with life. I do 
not remember any parallel instance to the above except 
a cold'blooded, venomous attack by the St, Jame^s 


Chronicle on Mr. Canning, a few hours after the death of 
that celebrated man. It is discreditable to the national 
feeling that] journals guilty of such cowardly atrocities 
should be tolerated. 

aSth. — Dinner to Lords Akhorpe and J. Russell. — 
The speechifying at this banquet seems to have been 
rather below par, — ^not much to be wondered at on 
so hackneyed a theme. Sir Francis Burdett paid a 
somewhat equivocal compliment — ^accidentally of course 
— ^to Lord John. **The noble Lord," he said, *'must 
feel it a great burden to sustain the name he bears.** 
Happily, this was said among friends; had the Opposition 
been present it would not have gone off so pleasantly. 
I remember Mr. Canning once made an awkward lapsus 
lingua at a dinner given him by the Directors of the East 
India Company, at the time he was appointed for the 
India Government He was expatiating on the ease with 
which a country may be governed merely by adherence 
to a simple straightforward policy. "You, gentlemen," 
said he, "shew with how little wisdom even a great 
empire may be governed." None of the Lords of 
LeadenhaU acknowledged the eulogy. 

29th. — I have often been amused by the startling effect 
which a bit of home truth produces on a company 
between whom there is a tadt agreement to leave the 
subject to which it refers untouched. An instance of this 
occurred on Monday night in the House of Lords. The 
Marquis of Westminster, on presenting a Reform petition 
stated to their lordships that the reform of the House of 
Commons is a question that does not legitimately come 
under their legislation. On this, upstarted Lord Eldon, 
who declared that he would rather die in his place than admit 
sudi doctrine. Now to prove that the Peers have a right 
to prevent the Lower House from reforming itself, would 
be rather an impracticable task; but to treat the question- 


ing of such a right as something approaching to blasphemy, 
and to do this under the semblance of extreme patriotism, 
is an .easy mode of evading the difficulty. The noble 
Earl seems to hold his life very cheap, there being 
scarcely a remnant of iMgotry or oppression on the 
statute-book in defence of which he is not always ready 
to lay it down. If I may judge from the praises lavished 
on Lord Eldon by the Tory prints on every trivial 
occasion, it requires a good deal of puffing to keep 
this heavy old gentleman afloat What is to become of 
the monument that was talked of for him? — Mem, — 
Whenever this monument shall be erected, let it record 
that he was one of tiie sixteen who voted against ti^ 
abolition of die slave-trade, in 1S07; — it will be a fine 
illustration of our national taste and humane feeling. 

I have read in the Arabian Nights of burying-grounds 
being haunted by gAoia^ creatures who live only on the 
bodies of the dead. But I was not aware that we had 
gholes in England in tiie persons of the I>ean and 
Chapter of Westminster Abbey. These persons have 
refused permission to the widow of Sir Hun^hrey Davy 
to erect a monument to his memory within the Abbey 
unless she pays a heavy tax— some ;^ioo or ^aoo— for 
the privilege. Now Westminster Abbey is pubhc property, 
and does not even belong more to the metropolis than to 
other parts of the kingdom. It is tiie sepulchre of our 
illustrious dead, the depository of the bravest, wisest, and 
most virtuous of mankind. There is not a man of sound 
moral taste in England who does not feel a national pride 
in that venerable edifice, and whether he lives in Cum- 
berland or Cornwall, considers himself as peisonaUy 
interested in it as though he resided in the Pialace Yard ; 
and every such man must resent as an insult to the honor 
of his country the flagrant abuse by which the greatest 


and best of men are denied a memorial in the national 
sanctuary. The faulty however, does not rest with the 
Dean and Chapter, but with the Government which 
tolerates their rapacity. There is no abuse so flagitious 
but that s(Mne people will be willing to avail themselves 
of its gains, and the thanks of the country will be due to 
any public-spirited member for bringing the subject at 
once under the notice of Parliament 

As I anticipate rather a busy week for you, I <»ught not 
perhaps to trespass on your columns at greater length. 
Some Q in the comer asked in your last number whether 
I can inform him of the means by which an alteration has 
been made in that clause of the Reform Bill which relates 
to Falmouth. I cannot There is some stir among you, 
I understand about representatives in the new Parlia- 
ment I suppose Penryn will nominate one member and 
Falmouth the other; to this there should certainly be no 
opposition on either side. Then, who are you to have? 
Should no gendeman in the town or its vicinity offer him^ 
self> all I would say is — get somebody who will really do 
you credit I would not object to represent you myself, but 
people say there are doubts about my identity, and I 
scorn the humiliation of attempting to prove my own 
existence. I shall not therefore be forthcoming, and the 
next best man for you is — stop— I have him in my eye — 
but the announcement would be premature. More of this 
in a week or two. 

I am obliged by your attrition in sending me the 
Anchovy and Zest Will you also be good enough to 
purchase for me three or four red cotton night caps, with 
tassels ? I always wear them for the sake of the effect 
I had some other little things to say, but have unfortunately 
broken my steel pen in attempting to mend it, and must 
subscribe myself in pencil, v^ truly yours, Peter Pry, 


Sixth Letter. 
Dear Sir, 

While the public mind is engrossed by the Refonn 
Bill, and the journals are so busily discussing the proba. 
bilities of its future success, the contributions of a 
scribbler on miscellaneous topics will probably meet 
with but little attention in the columns of a newspaper. 
If, however, you think my memoranda worthy of insertion, 
it is to Pie z, matter of little moment whedier they find 
readers or not ; for as I have before told you, my object 
in penning these letters is rather to disburden my own 
mind than to engage the .attention of .others. Secluded 
in rural privacy, my literary ambition is bounded by the 
precincts of my native village, and even here the public 
interest is divided. Grogram has 'taken an interest in 
some of my letters, of which I did not think him sus- 
ceptible ; while Miss Tibbs has visibly cooled towards me 
in consequence of what she learnedly styles the ** lati- 
tudinarianism" of my opinions. I have already apprised 
you that she is a bitter anti-reformer, — chiefly, I suspect, 
because a third cousin to a brother-in-law of her step- 
mother sat in the last Parliament for a close borough. 
It is smgular to what an extreme this determined toryess 
carries her prejudices. Of her feelings towards myself I 
have always an infallible index in the strength of her tea. 
When I am in her good graces, it is of the highest color 
and flavor; if I happen to miss any expected attention, 
or vanquish her in an argument, the usual sprinkling of 
hyson is omitted; and last evening I had so weak a 
dilution even of congou, that one more such transparency 
will terminate my visits. But enough of this, — ^now for 
my diary. 

October i8th. — Rejection of the Reform Bill. I am 
not so uneasy about this as most people seem to make 
themselves, because I am certain that, as sure as mom 


follows night, this measure, or an equivalent, will be 
obtained. I should not feel a momenf s hesitation to 
stake my existence on it I do not rest my confidence 
in the King, or the Parliament, or the People — ^not 
but that their assistance is valuable and indispensible, 
— ^but my main reliance is on the inherent force of 
natural rights in compelling recognition. Fifty years has 
this question of parliamentary reform been agitating 
the public mind. Throughout the letters oi Junius we 
meet with perpetual references to the abuses in the 
representation; and we owe it in no small degree to 
his celebrated epistles that the minds of the community 
were set actively 40 work on the subject And it may 
be regarded as a providential arrangement that from the 
time of Junius the cause has never been suffered to 
languish for want of some great name to give it authority 
and support It was in 1782 that Mr. Pitt made his 
memorable declaration, that no minister could, under 
the existing sjrstem, be an honest man ; and followed it 
by enforcing die necessity of Reform upon the attention 
of the House of Commons. Fox took up the mantle 
which his predecessor dropped. I remember to have 
read in 1797 a speech of that incorruptible statesman, 
of which the following words are firesh in my recollec- 
tion: — ^*' That government alone is strong that has the 
hearts of the people ; and will any man contend that 
we should not be likely to add strength to the state if 
we were to extend the basis of popular representation? 
Would not a House of Commons, freely elected, and 
that was in truth the representation of the people, in 
supporting the administration of the Crown, be more 
likely to conciliate and to ensure the support of the 
people? If this be true in the abstract, it is certainly 
our peculiar duty to look for this support in the hour 
of difficulty." If ever tiie cause of Reform appeared 


hopeless, it was at the termination of the Fosdte ministzy 
in 1800, from which period the Tories maintained their 
ascendancy upwaxds of twenty years, and proscribed 
from office every man of inflexible integrity and expan* 
sive intellect Yet it was under thdr ir<A sway that 
reformers multiplied and gradually increased in numbers 
and influence until the Wellington ministry fell from 
them at the dose of the last year. I need not recapitu- 
late the events that have since occurred, and I allude 
to these circumstances only to shew that the history of 
Reform is the histoiy of a great constitutional right, 
commencing its work in the public mind not so much 
in the shape of an abstract argument as of a mond 
conviction, accumulating its energy from men's hearts 
as much as from their intellects; gathering strength 
from conflict, increasing its demands with every fresh 
refusal, and thus displaying the characters which assimi- 
late it with all the great truths which have created our 
liberties as they successively dawned upon the natioiL 
From frdnt and slow beginnings they have gradually 
forced their way to moral victory. 

loth. — ^His Majesty has conferred the honor of knight- 
hood on Messrs. Charles Bell, and Herschd^— and such 
honors could not be moie judiciously bestowed. Every 
friend to science must be gratified by the elevation of 
these distinguished men. Had Herschel given us no 
other proof of his talent than his '^ Preliminary Treatise 
on Science" in Lardner's Cyclopoedia, it would have 
been suffici^t to stamp him a man of first-rate endow- 
ments. The influence of the Lord Chancellor is visible 
in these promotions. 

32nd.— ^ One would think, from the tone in which 
the Post J and other opposition journals, ^eak of "the 
people," that they form but a diminutive fraction of the 
body politic, and have scarcely a right to be heard in any 


matter of national importance. It is amusing too to 
see how these wiseacres take it for granted that real 
patriotism is to be found only among the aristocrats 
and the squirearchy. I know of no more mischievous 
or abused notion than this. The amorpatria exists in 
wide difiiision where ofUimes it is least discernible. In 
the walks of middle, aye and of humble life, in seques- 
tered hamlets and Icmely cottages, there are thousands 
who mourn over their country's evils and rejoice in her 
prospesity, with a sincerity neither felt nor understood 
l^ the supple hirelings of state or the minions of a court 
The value of such men is inappreciable, and where they 
cease to minister at her altar the flame of Liberty will 
languish and decay. When public freedom advances it 
is chiefly through the unseen but powerful agency oi 
men in private life; and when it retrogrades, and a 
country is menaced by oppression, how often does a 
Wallace, a Tell, or a Hofer spring from some humble 
dwelling to redress the wrongs of a betrayed nation ! 

When I began my letter I did not intend to say 
anything on Reform, and here I have written about 
nothing else. Well, you will excuse the garrulity of an 
old man, and I must have less to say about poUtics 
in future. You will hear from me again soon. Believe 
me veiy sincorely yours, Peter Pry. 

Seventh Letter. 
Dear Sir, 

I am glad that the Cambridgeshire election is 
terminated in favor oi Townley, and fully agree with 
you that it is decisive respecting the unaltered state of 
public feeling. The anti-reformors have an immense 
influence in Cambridge, but of a very different descrip- 
tion from that which they exert in Dorsetshire. The 
strength of the aristocracy, the influence of the Univer- 

172 liBMOIR OF 

sity, the wealth and rank of the county, decidedly pre^ 
ponderate in their favor. But then, there is a spread of 
intelligence, a force of intellect, and a thick sprinkling of 
independent men ; and these are no light matters to cope 
with. The two-legged live stock of the landed interest are 
not sufficiently numerous in Cambridge to transform a 
sailor into a senator, and from all the accounts which I 
have seen of the contest, it appears to present as fair an 
index of public opinion as could be desired. — But I 
pass on to some further extracts from my diary. 

November ist — It is a dull time with the booksellers. 
There is a general complaint among them that the 
Reform Bill has had a paralysing effect upon literature, 
and there is no hope of the public taste returning to 
the miscellaneous productions of the press until this 
hydra-headed question is setded. Even poetry ceases 
to charm. If Murray or Colbum be offered a new 
poem the answer is, "It will not do, sir; if you can 
hit off such a work as * The Pleasures of Reform*-^^ Lays 
of the BiU'—' The Last of the Tories'— or something 
in that way, well executed, it will be sure to take, but 
everything else is mere lumber." Accordingly, all the 
great poets have struck. Sir Walter is gone to the 
Mediterranean; Wordsworth is turned florist ; the Ettrick 
Shepherd is writing on husbandry ; Milman is studying 
German theology ; L. £. L. is going to be married ; 
Moore has sold his harp, but it is not true that he 
has purchased a cotton-factory ; Southey is irrecoverably 
prosaic; Croly is occupied with the cares of his new 
parish ; Hood can't make another pun ; Montgomery 
delivers lectures ; and Campbell is silent, except when 
he occasionally improvises for the Metropolitan. As 
to the small poets — ^poor fellows 1 they are in a wofui 
plight The actual presence of danger, which adds 
strength to great minds, is fatal to these '^ little ones.** 


Many of them are lunatic ; some have sunk into idiocy; 
others have taken opium and died babbling of green 
fields; and none are likely to live through November 
except Robert Montgomery, who is safe in consequence 
of having made a compact with ''Satan." 

Talking of poets, I am reminded of Coleridge, who, 
it is reported, is so infirm that even should his life 
be much longer protracted, we can expect nothing 
more firom his pen. His intellectual powers, if I am 
rightly informed, are paralyzed to a degree which for- 
bids, the continuous exercise of linking a chain of ideas 
on any given subject, and even unfits him for general 
conversation. At times, it appears, his mind resumes 
its wonted energy, and kindling with transient light, 
glows with tiie brilliancy of his best days, but soon 
again lapses into torpor. The demolition of a temple 
would not fill me with so deep a melancholy as arises 
from contemplating the ruin of such a mind. But such 
is die fate of Genius — to be consumed, like a taper, 
by its own light Of the toil of thought by which 
Coleridge forced his way to literary eminence some 
estimate may be formed fi'om the remarkable precision 
of his language, in which you meet not with a redun- 
dant particle, or a word which in meaner hands can 
be exchanged for a better. He must have been early 
impressed with the truth which he utters in the preface 
to his Aids to R^edion; — "It will be of especial aid 
to you, in forming a habit of reflection, to accustpm 
yourself to reflect on the words you use, hear, or read; 
their birth, derivation, and history. For if words are 
not THINGS they are living powers, by which the 
things of most importance to mankind are actuated, 
combined, and humanized.'' And you need but to open 
his poems at any page to perceive how, according to his 
own beautiful definition, every word— even the ^ghtest 


— becomes a living power. Take, for instance, the 
opening stanza in the WamkrUigs df Cain, and remark 
how essentially every word belongs to the line in which 
it stands, and how almost every line is nearly a picture 
in Itself: — 

" Enoinotiired with a tvrme of laaTOfl^ 
That leafy twine his only dress ! 
A lovely Boy was pluckiag fruits 
In a moonMg^t wilderness. 
The moon was bright, the air was free^ 
And fruits and flowers together grew 
On many a shrub and many a tree ; 
And all put dn a gentle hue, 
Hanging in the shadowy air 
like a pioture rioh and rare. 
It was a climate where, they say. 
The night is more beloved than day. 
Bat who that beauteous boy beguiled, 
That beauteous boy 1 to linger hare ? 
Alone, by night, a little child. 
In place so lonely, and so wUd, — 
Has he no friend, no loving motiier near ? " 

3rd. — It is not generally known that a colony of fret 
fugroes has been established at Cape Montsenado, a 
few hundred miles south <A Sierra Leone, on tiie Grain 
Coast of Africa. It was projected in 1816 by a society 
of philanthropists in the United States. These benevo- 
lent men considered that the emancipation of slaves was 
little more than a nominal gift, for while they continued 
to live among a white population they were still treated 
as a degraded caste. The natural effect of such treat- 
ment is to deprive the negro of that self-respect ^ich 
even in the lowest condition is essential to rectitude 
of life, and accordingly it happens that the finee black 
population of the United States are in general wretchedly 
demoralized. The tract of coast on which the colony 
is founded was purchased from the aborigines, several 


importations were made from the States, great reverses 
were met with, many privations were endm^ and for 
several years the attempt to locate seemed hopeless. 
But gradually things wore a brighter aspect, the colonists 
were peaceable and industrious, the natives were coi^ 
ciliated, communications for commerce were opened into 
the interior, and the upshot of the matter is, that at 
this time the colony consists of two thousand souls, 
and the extent to which civilization has progressed is 
evidenced by the institution of public schools, the 
erection of a church, and even die establishment of a 
newspaper ! An official report to the American govern- 
ment 8a3rs ^'die articles of export are the productions 
of the country, consisting of rice, pahn-oil, ivoiy, tortoise- 
shell, dye-wood, gold, hides, wax, and a small amount 
of coffee. There are almost always some vessels in 
the harbour, and the bustle and thronging of the streets 
shew sometiiing already of the activity of the smaller 
seaports of the United States. Many of the settlers 
have acquired considerable property, and enjoy an 
abundance, not only of the necessaries of life, but even 
of its comforts and luxuries. The intercourse between 
Monrovia and the other setdements of Liberia is so 
considerable that the nett annual profits of a small 
schooner employed for this purpose amounted to 4700 
dollars. The colonists generally live in a style of neat- 
ness and comfort approaching to elegance in many 
instances unknown before their arrival in this country. 
A family twelve months in Africa, and destitute of the 
means of furnishing a comfortable table, is unknown ; 
and an individual, of whatever sex or age, without ample 
provision of decent apparel cannot, I believe, be found. 

Sth. — ^Why should people in private life concern them- 
selves about politics ? This question is often asked, and 
seldom meets with the answer it deserves. Grogram put 


it to me the other day while I was striving to interest him 
in the success of the Reform Bill "Why" said he, 
"should an old gentleman like you, Mr. Pry, bother 
yourself about a matter that won't come a minute the 
sooner or later for all your trouble?" And better 
informed men than Grogram frequently bring in this 
absurd question as a sort of extinguisher to an aigu- 
ment ; especially when it goes against them, and when 
tame sort of people submit to be put down by it A 
favorite writer of mine — the Rev. T. Gisbome — has 
answered this question so happily, in a passage which 
came under my notice a day or two since, that I tran- 
scribe it at length, as being much more conclusive than 
any remarks of my own : — 

" They who, from indolence, from apathy, or a distaste 
for political investigations, professedly decline all exercise 
of inspection and superintendence over the conduct of 
those to whom the management of national affairs is 
committed, usually vindicate themselves by deriding 
the blunders and extravagancies of self-constituted poli- 
ticians. But they are not sufficiently aware of the natural 
consequences of the supineness which diey recommend. 
No circumstances so effectually deter the Government 
of any country from involving itself in unjust or per- 
nicious enterprises at home or abroad ; no circumstances 
so powerfully stimulate it, when engaged in them, to 
measure back with speed the steps which it had taken, 
as the consciousness that the vigilant eye of the people 
is fixed on aU its proceedings. He is the sincerest and 
wisest friend of his country, who, aware of the fallibility 
of the most experienced Administration, and of the 
almost irresistible temptations which are attached to 
the possession of authority, is at all times ready, on a 
crisis of importance, to give a temperate yet manly 
testimony of his opinion, by communications to his 


rq>resentativeSy by petition to Parliament, and, if cir- 
cumstances require, by remonstrances to the Throne.** 

7th. — I have been looking into our periodicals, and 
notwithstanding some of them display great talent, it 
appears to me that considered as a whole their literature 
is lamentably superficial. In acute criticism, graphic 
fictions, and sprightly essays upon subjects of temporary 
interest, I grant they are unrivalled. But how little light 
do they shed on the deep workings of the heart, the 
complex machinery of our moral nature, and the great 
solemn purposes of human life ! Occasionally we meet 
with a passage of permanent interest in the Edinburgh 
or Quarterly, and frequently in the Nodes of Blackwood; 
and in Professor Wilson's fitful reveries there are gushes 
of feeling which we feel to be immortal ; and here and 
there sunbursts of immutable truth. There is also a 
clever writer whose name I do not know, in Fraser, 
who often dives deep into the well-spring of philosophy. 
But they are exceptions to the rule, and those gems 
of intellect will, as time presses onward, be lost in the 
rubbish by which they are surrounded. The genius of 
the nation is chiefly laboring on structures which, though 
reared at an immense expenditure of moral strength, 
resemble the ice-palace of the Russian princess, and — 
fragile as beautiful — ^are lost with the season that pro- 
duces them. 

But I am getting tedious, and forbear to transcribe 
two other extracts which I had marked, one touching 
upon the Bristol Riots, and another on the Cholera 
Morbus. While speaking of the periodicals, I should 
have paid a tribute of praise to the remarkably cheap, 
able, and spirited publication — the Atherutum — decidedly 
the first work of its class, the very flower of the literary 
weeklies. At only half the price of the Literary Gazette^ 
it is in every respect more valuable, and Jerdan him- 



self seems to feel this, by refusing to advertise it I 
wanted to add a few lines more, but my stiq>id boy, 
while lifting a kettle from the fire, has this moment 
spilled some boiling water on my toes. Eynise haste. 
Yours, Peter Pry, 

Eighth Letter. 
Dear Sir, 

Long time since I wrote you — scalded my toes 
just as I was finishing my last letter, and been laid up 
ever since in to-to, as a punster would say — don't 
make this an excuse, though, for not writing— hate 
excuses — ^always thought there was much truth in a 
saying of Franklin's, that a man who is good at 
excuses is seldom good at any thihg else — perfectly 
independent, too, you know — don't write like you 
newspaper men for any party that will pay best— ad- 
mire a sentiment of old George Withers's — 

"Being bom as free as these, 
I aluJl write as I shell please."— 

old George's fame, however, is not to be envied — poor 
fellow I left himself to a ludicrous immortality. 

Shouldn't write now — toes not quite well yet — cmly 
heard a person remark a few evenings back Uiat Peter 
Pry had said all he could say — saucy fellow) — felt my- 
self roused — ^filled a dozen pages of my diary at a 
sitting — send you some extracts: — 

January ssth. — Radical meeting at Manchester on 
Sunday last. This is one of the baneful consequences 
of delaying the Reform Bill. The strength of popular 
feeling rouses not only the sober-minded part of the 
community, but those turbulent factions which are ever 
ready to avail themselves of such occasions to disturb 
the peace of society. The ostensible object of this 


Manchester meeting was to obtain universal suffrage ; 
the real object of the demagogues who addressed it 
was to gain ascendancy among their fellows at the risk 
of inflaming their minds with those seditious feelings 
which kindled into flame the other day at Bristol. As 
a specimen of the oratory dealt out to the poor 
Sabbath-breaking reformers, a man named Broadhurst 
said that the guilt of the Bristol rioters was solely 
chargeable on the Duke of Newcastle and Sir Charles 
Wetherell, and that society would benefit more by the 
judges being hung than the criminals ! Another of the 
name of Ashmore professed to laugh at the idea of 
any evil having been done by the demolition of Not- 
tingham Castle, and boasted of the ease with which 
two hundred such men as himself (I hope the country 
does not contain 200 of his counterparts) could reduce 
the New Bailey prison at Manchester to a similar con- 
dition. There is not much difficulty in divining the 
secrets of men's hearts when their sympathies are wholly 
enlisted in favor of burglars and incendiaries, and when 
their indignation is roused to its highest tone against 
prisons and tread-mills. These are the real combustibles 
of the political world — live magazines of evil — ^waiting 
but for a chance spark to explode with desolating fiiry. 
28th. — ^The birth-<)ay of Robert Bums celebrated at 
tiie Freemasons' Tavern. It is illustrative of the ran- 
cour with which party feelings are but too apt to 
animate even men of exalted talent, that this occasion 
— on which all meaner topics should have been hushed 
in the homage offered by every heart to the memory 
of departed genius — ^was seized upon for an indecent 
display of political hostility ; the opinions of the diverse 
parties being indicated by their shouts or silence ac- 
companying the toasts of eminent public characters. 
The same -disgraceful spirit pervades the reports of the 


meeting in the newspapers. Even a journal of so high 
a character as the Tttms stoops to this meanness. I 
am not surprised at any misrepresentation in the columns 
of the Standard and St. Jamei Chronicle, but cannot 
imagine what reason should induce the "leading journal 
of Europe" to lend itself to such pitiful trickeries. At 
this meeting Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd, was present, 
being on his first visit to London. Even against the 
unoffending Shepherd the Times takes occasion to vent 
its paltry spleen — in part pa)anent, I suppose, of the 
thwacks which that journal sometimes winces imder 
from the Nodes — ^in one or two mean-spirited inuendoes 
which I transcribe. It says that one main purpose of 
the dinner was to "astonish the natives" by the intro- 
duction of Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd, who it appears 
has now left his native wilds in order to visit for the 
first time the metropolis of the United Kingdom. 
Then, after mentioning the coincidence of the same 
day being the anniversary both of Bums's nativity and 
the Shepherd's, the writer adds "What other points of 
similarity there may chance to be between these two 
northern bards, we leave it to the ingenuity of our 
readers to discover." All this is extremely discreditable, 
and was besides, quite uncalled for by the occasion. 

The reception which the Shepherd experienced from 
the meeting was most cordial and gratifying. It con- 
sisted too of men of high literary rank, — Mr. Lockhait, 
Sir John Malcolm, Allan Cunningham, Capt Basil Hall, 
Mr. Sotheby, (where was Campbell?) and many others. 
There were also present two sons of the illustrious 
bard whose genius the assemblage met to celebrate. I 
regret to add that the Shepherd did not happily ex- 
press his acknowledgments of the honorable plaudits 
with which he was received. His speech on returning 
thanks for his health being toasted was a very so-so 


attempt at humour, pointless throughout, and scarcely 
even delicate. Its brevity was its only merit Being 
on his first visit to the metropolis, standing amid a 
company which boasted many exalted names in Eng- 
lish literature, and many others whose various virtues 
and talents have elevated them to a high station in 
the community, — and being received among them with 
the greatest warmth and cordiality — the occasion was 
eminently calculated to awaken in the breast of a man 
of genius emotions far more grateful and vivid than 
those which were indicated in his brief address. 

29th.— On the presentation of the Perthshire petition 
for Reform, Lord Lynedoch, in attempting to shew 
how strong the feeling in its favor prevails in Perth- 
shire, adduced a somewhat singular instance in proof 
of it At the time, he said, their lordships were dis- 
cussing the question whether the Reform-Bill should 
be read a second time, a great number of weavers 
were assembled at Perth to see the south mail come 
in, and to learn the intelligence which it brought 
After the news came down that the Bill was rejected, 
they stopped the mail to know whether there had been 
any disturbances in London. The guard replied in the 
affirmative, and said that the Duke of Wellington and 
another illustrious individual had been shot by the 
mob. This intelligence was hailed with satisfaction by 
the assembled multitude, and in the vehemency of 
their indignation against the rejecters of the Reform 
Bill they so far forgot the humanity of their natures 
as to go to a noble friend of his and ask whether 
they ought not to celebrate the fate of the Duke and 
his associate by an illumination ! I suppose the Perth- 
shire reformers will scarcely thank his lordship for giving 
this unfortunate illustration of their feeling in favor of 
Reform. — My sheet is out — Very truly yours, Peter 


Ninth Letter. 
Dear Sir, 

You will condole with me when I tell you that 
I have lately lost my old neighbour Miss Tibbs — a 
name with which you are already familiar. Poor old 
lady ! I verily believe the Reform Bill has been die 
death of her. I regret her loss sincerely, for she was the 
only fragment of what is tenned ''the anti-reform interest" 
that I knew, and I have nobody now to have a social 
wrangle with. She had too a peculiar way of stewing 
prunes, which I fear has died with her. I am told 
that the Bill has been fatal to several old women. It 
was unfortunate for my lamented friend that her tem- 
per was by nature extremely choleric, and having been 
brought up in the family of a clerical justice-of-tfae- 
peace somewhere in the Lincolnshire fens, her politics 
were bitterly church -and -state, tter prejudices were 
kept vital by her passions, and grew in strength as 
she increased in years. I never met with so violent 
a toiyess — yet she had many redeeming qualities which 
more than compensated for her politics. She made the 
best currant wine I ever drank, cured hams to perfec- 
tion, and her syllabubs — ^ah ! — I shall never eat the like. 
She was also the inventor of a plan for keeping fish 
fresh beyond the usual time, — ^by taking out their eyes 
and filling the sockets with salt Your readers may 
stare at this, but let them tiy the experiment and I 
guarantee its success. Thousands of people have lived 
to less purpose than Miss Tibbs, and numbers mi^t 
envy the memorial she has left — that her bad qualities 
hurt no one but herself, while her good ones were a 
general benefit But I proceed with my diary; — 

February 23rd. — It is amusing to look at the exces- 
sive scrupulosity with which the late Ministry and their 
adherents measure every item of public expenditure. 


The payment of ^2000 to Mr. Babbage for that miracle 
of science his machine for working logarithms, — of ^900 
to Dr. Bowring for inspecting the French system of 
government accounts and reporting on its merits in 
the House of Commons, — and ^500 to Mr. Marshall, 
the author of a most elaborate and valuable compila- 
tion of statistics, — these items are selected by the 
organs of the late Ministry for marked reprehension. 
Mr. George Dawson, who seems to have a supreme 
contempt for every kind of useful knowledge, repro- 
bated with all the powers of his voice the payments 
in question. Without doubt it reflects shame on the 
Government, that these sums have been apphed to 
such purposes. Five hundred pounds for a volume of 
statistics . — ^as though our libraries were not already 
crammed with such works; — ^a sum, too, sufficient to 
have pensioned off some state Page, or Maid of Hon- 
our. Nine hundred pounds for inspecting the French 
system of accounts ! — ^when our own system has already 
been made too plain to people who ought to have 
nothing to do with the taxes but to pay them. And 
two thousand pounds for a calculating machine ! Why, 
this — as Dogberry would say — is flat burglary. Sir 
Charles Wetherell triumphantly asked whether it could 
calculate how to supply a deficient revenue; and thus 
dearly shewed its inutility. It is painfiQ to reflect that 
the money thus misapplied would have paid a year's 
pension to Mr. Goulbum, or have reflected bade the 
munificence of the country from the snufi'-box of a 
Mexican Ambassador ! What confidence can be placed 
in a Ministry guilty o( such extravagance ! 

27th. — It is a melancholy thing to see such a man 
as the Duke of Wellington throwing away the reputation 
iA his splendid services and rendering himself an object 
of popular dislike in a country where his name should 


be maintained only as a word of power ! One is almost 
tempted to believe his own words — that whenever he 
should become a leading statesman it would be the effect 
of madness. It appears by the papers that at the King's 
Levee on Wednesday last his Grace actually interrupted 
the proceedings by reading to his Majesty the South- 
ampton anti-reform address. This address is trumpeted 
forth by the Opposition Press as an expression of the 
political feeling which prevails in that county, a very 
probable circumstance when it is remembered that at 
the last election the Tory members for Hampshire 
relinquished their posts in favor of two reformers with- 
out even venturing upon a contest From the importance 
attached to the address, however, by its being read at 
the Levee, I concluded that it was an unexceptionably 
well-written document On looking into it I find that 
it begins with expressing gratitude to the King for the 
royal proclamation suppressing illegal combinations. Four 
months after their suppression this certainly looks like 
a stale topic, unless we imagine the gratitude of the 
Hants anti-reformers to have been so overpowering 
that four months were required to give it utterance. 
The next paragraph states that they are filled with in- 
dignation and alarm at the existence of these combi- 
nations. Here then seems to be a great deal of 
indignation wasted, for this paragraph follows close on 
that in which they express their gratitude for the ex- 
tinction of the very societies which, they now state, 
continue to fill them with alarm. If your limits would 
permit, it would be worth while to glance at the 
remainder of the address, to remark the extreme caution 
with which it is worded; there not being a sentence 
to which any reformer may not devoutly subscribe. I 
suppose that to an anti-reformer it presents "a thread 
of meaning through a web of wiles," but it is a happy 


specimen of the art of employing words to conceal 
thoughts. — ^Among the signatures I observe that of Lord 
Porchester, a young nobleman who has written some 
verses, not above mediocrity, for the Annuals, and who 
was toasted at the Bums dinner the other day, "Lord 
Porchester and the British Poets ! " Very good. We 
may expect soon to hear of such toasts as " Colonel 
Sibthorpe and the British Orators ! " — " Francis Lathom 
and the British Novelists!" — "Mr. Dillon and the British 
Historians ! " The affinity which Lord Porchester holds 
with the British Poets reminds me of the story related 
of a person who once accosted Tompion, the celebrated 
watch-maker, by exclaiming "Ah, Mr. Tompion, you 
and I are the two most noted watchmakers in London. 
You are the best, and I am the worst " ! 

29th. — I am glad to find the Temperance Societies 
on the advance. It is fortunate for the prosperity of 
these institutions that men of every diversity of opinion 
can unite in promotmg them, and eminendy are they 
entitled to the support of every philanthropist It is 
an astounding &ct, the amount annually expended in 
this kingdom in spirituous liquors, which -exceeds the 
value of all the manufactures we export The consump^ 
tion of spirits appe^ too to be fearfully on the increase, 
having actually doubled in the last seven years. It is 
calculated that the average quantity consumed by every 
individual in England is two-and-a-half gallons a year 
— in Ireland three-and-a-half — ^and in Scotland four. 
This tells badly against the boasted morality of our 
northern neighbours; but the whole subject deserves 
the most serious attention. Talk of cholera — what are 
its ravages in comparsion with those of intemperance? 
— and should we not be equally prompt in applying 
a remedy to the greater evil? 

March ist — Mem. — Symptoms of mortality in the 


anti-reform cause — Skmdard complains that there is no 
longer any Tory party! — pretty well this, from the 
ostensible oigan of that body. Lord Ashley, the hero 
of 'the celebrated re-action in Dorset, has had his elec- 
tion bill made out — documents tmpleasant to read — 
expense only ;^30,ooo— subscribed in London and 
Dorset ;^9,5oo; — price of "the whistle" ^20,500 — 
rather dear 1 — ^best joke behind — cost ^12,000 more 
to defend the election — seat given up in despair — great 
"triumph of Conservative principles." The anti-reformers 
are boasting of the patronage of the Queen ! — Shaving, 
it seems, lost all influence over the other sex. Fine 
story trumped up in the Standard of her Majesty's 
favorable reception of an anti-reform address presented 
by the Archbishop of Canterbury. And are Gifford 
and Maginn come to this? How discreditable would 
the circumstance be, if true, to both the Queen and 
the Primate. But it happily turns out to be a pure 

I am at the end of my paper — shall write you again 
shortly — ^very truly yours, Peter Pry. 

With the promise of writing again shortly, this cor- 
respondence appears to have terminated, as we find 
no tenth letter in the colmnns of the journal In the 
meantime, the journal itself was not answering the views 
of its projectors. Various changes in its management 
gave the first indications that all was not exactly as 
it should be. In January, 1832 — about fifteen months 
from its commencement — ^we have a notice that Mr. 
♦ * * * , "our late Printer and Publisher," and 

Mr. * * * of the Parish of G , "having 

sold their respective interests or shares in this Paper, 
and in the debts due to the concern, it is requisite that 
all unsettled accounts," &c., &c And further, that 


'^aldiough a partial change has taken place in the Pro- 
prietary of this paper, it will continue under the direction 
of the same Editor." The notice goes on to state that 
no bias of party connexions would induce the Camu-- 
Inan to abandon for one hour the- independent and 
constitutional course it had hitherto pursued. ''Our 
circulation, which is not exceeded in this town and 
neighbourhood, and unequalled in several principal 
towns and populous districts in the county, having 
increased with a rapidity unprecedented in Cornwall, 
and gready accelerated within the past month, the Pro- 
prietor is determined to make the greatest exertions 
to secure an early delivery," &c 

Here then, was a large and rapidly increasing circula- 
tion of the journal, coupled somewhat strangely with 
the fact that two of the shareholders had already sold 
out. It is not in the usual course of things to widi- 
draw money so soon from a very promising speculation. 
Were diese two gentlemen so strangely blind to their own 
interests? or was it, that foreseeing the vast influx of 
wealth which would soon be pouring in they judged it 
best to retire before the seductions of Mammon had 
obtained too great an ascendancy ? We pass on to the 
middle of February, when another notice informs the 
public that the publication of the journal would forthwith 
be changed fnm the Friday to tilie Tuesday; and this, 
from the conviction that a Tuesday's newspaper was 
very much wanted in Cornwall. Then follows a long 
catalogue of advantages to accrue from the proposed 
alteration. The Debates in Parliament, &e London 
News, the Foreign Intelligence, the Cornish Markets, 
the Shipping Lists, and various important local intel- 
ligence, would all be had " three days earlier" by this 
arrangement, while advertisements would enjoy the 
privilege of being circulated through the County in 


the early part of the week. Under the new system 
matters went on until December, when a somewhat 
more significant Notice heads the leading column. "The 
Editor begs to inform the Subscribers that his connexion 
with the Comubian terminates with the present number 
(Dec. 1 8). It- may be proper for him to state that 
his responsible engagement with this journal continued 
but twelve months after its establishment, since the 
expiration of which, though no nominal change has 
been made in its management, he has been only an 
occasional contributor. His office now wholly devolves 
upon a gentieman who is much more competent than 
himself to the able discharge of its duties. With sincere 
thanks to his friends and correspondents for the kind 
attentions with which they have often favored him, and 
trusting that the new arrangement will render the journal 
still more worthy of their support, he respectfully bids 
them Farewell." 

We have no data by which to determine precisely 
how long the journal survived the dissolution of part- 
nership between itself and the first editor. It may have 
been twelve months, more or less, from the time that 
the last-mentioned Notice was published, that the Cor^ 
nubian disappeared and was seen no more. If this 
melancholy fact requires to be explained, it wUl be 
remembered that as far as the circulation is regarded, 
its prospects could not be deemed discouraging. Nor 
could it fail for lack of editorial ability. It had well- 
written articles, able reviews, good correspondence, and 
well-selected material in general ; and its politics were 
the pervailing opinions of the County. One glance at 
the Advertising columns reveals the secret, — it could 
do no business ; and the heavy expenses connected 
with the publication of the paper could be met by 
nothing in the way of an ordinary sale. The established 


organs of Cornish advertising had occupied the ground 
too long to afford any reasonable hope of success- 
ful competition in the circumstances under which 
the Comubian started; and the literary superiority by 
which a new rival may be distinguished goes for little 
in an affair of this kind. Justice requires us to add 
that all which could be done by that body of adver- 
tising gentlemen who rush in at once to ,the support 
of every newspaper, — ^no matter where published, by 
whom conducted, or by what principles distinguished, 
— ^was done to keep alive the Comubian, While Mine 
Agents, and Auctioneers, and tradesmen of other des- 
criptions dealt out their favors with a niggardly and 
unfrequent hand, these gentlemen of the Press Univer- 
sal — to their everlasting honor be it spoken — crowded 
the Comubian columns with their Pills, Elixirs, Pare- 
gorics, and all-healing Balsams. But even this would 
not do; nor did the whole catalogue of patent medi- 
cines supply one that suited the peculiar case of the 
journal itself. The resources of the British College of 
Health were unavailing for a weak, languishing, dying 
newspaper ; and it passed away, though worthy of a 
better fate. 



In tracing the literary career of the subject of these 
Memoirs we have thus fax been led to the discontinuance 
of his labours in connection with the Falmouth news- 
paper. A short time before this, he had married and 
settled at Portreath, with no more temporal resources 
than were just sufficient to meet die wants of the day, 
but with the world before him, and with the faculty of 
turning to good accoimt such opportunities as might offer 
in the sphere in which he moved. With good health, 
plenty of books, a large circle of friends, and every ^r 
prospect of competence and reputation, all reascmable 
means of happiness — in the general sense of that word — 
were in his possession. But he had now come to a period 
when the question as to what really constitutes both the 
happiness and the business of life was pressed with more 
than ordinary force on his attention. Four years previously, 
he had lost his father under circumstances of a very 
solemn and affecting character, and the impressions at 
that time produced, in conjunction with others resulting 
from events of a highly admonitory nature, had induced 
him a year or two afterwards to connect himself in mem- 
bership with the Wesleyan Church. It has already been 
stated that at a much earlier period he had become most 
decidedly the subject of a spiritual change; but, as is 
too generally the case with those whose first glow of reli- 
gious feeling lacks the wisdom and discretion needed for 
stability and permanence, the promise of those days had 
not been realized. At no time had he fallen into the 
grosser follies or dissipation of youth; but he had suffered 


from the keen relish of those intellectual pleasures which, 
when not sternly subjected to still higher objects, soon 
fill up the whole field of vision and throw into seeming 
insignificance the grandest subjects that can occupy the 
human mind. At the period now referred to he was the 
subject of conflicting feelings which kept him for a 
long time comparatively a stranger to that peace and 
comfort which result firom a cordial and unreserved 
acceptance of gospel truth ; and the reasons for this it 
may neither be uninteresting nor unprofitable to notice. 

It will easily be seen fix>m some of the political articles 
already quoted — and especially from those which deal 
with the general question of national prosperity — that 
the writer had accustomed himself to somewhat lofty 
views of the gradual advancement of human nature in 
social and moral excellence. Great stress is laid upon 
the essentially progressive character of Mind, and of the 
certainty with which its intellectual and spiritual aspira- 
tiobs will sooner or later gather round their appropriate 
objects. Statesmen and philosophers are all warned 
against the folly and wickedness of either ignoring or 
obstructing this march of Manhood — ^this inevitable and 
unconquerable tendency in the human race to move 
onward towards " all that is good and true.'' Of this 
great principle all popular movements are regarded as 
so many demonstrations. The Poles struggling with the 
Russian autocrat ; the Belgians protesting sword in hand 
against the tyranny of the Dutch; the French chasing 
their faithless Charles the Tenth from his kingdom; — 
these are the witnesses that selfish Will must bow 
dovm before enlightened Intellect So in England ; the 
general cry for an extended firanchise, for the annihila* 
tion of rotten boroughs and for the conferring of 
political importance on large but unrepresented towns, 
— what was it but another manifestation of the same 


Thought which " rives like gossamer the fetters that 
would impede her progress.** 

To young writers, in whom poetry is still the pre- 
dominating element, those romantic notions of Man 
ever on the road to perfection, are exceedingly capti- 
vating; and although a very superficial glance at the 
page of history ancient or modem, might — independ- 
endy of all higher authority — shew how little such a 
theory may be trusted, there are not many who care 
to subject it to that sort of criticism. Their error lies 
in applying a general truth to particular circumstances; 
and in overlooking the fact that what may safely be 
predicated of Mankind when the whole of its future is 
taken into the account may have nothing to do with 
the individual man or the individual nation of the 
present day. Nor is it true* that the hopefulness of the 
future springs from any thing in the race which, as an 
inherent principle^ impels them onward in the path of 
intellectual and moral victory. Charming as such a 
notion may be to the contemplation, its utter ground- 
lessness is at once apparent when tested by personal 
experience. If every man's consciousness tells him 
that it rests with himself whether his career shall be 
one of progressive honor or progressive shame, by what 
system of moral arithmetic can it be proved that results 
which belong to the man have no relation to those which 
belong to the multitude, — that though any one or more 
of the units may go wrong, the sum total will mainly 

go right ? 
We gather from the page of Revelation the cheering 

intelligence that the vanity to which the world has long 

been subjected will not be ultimately triumphant ; and 

that while Providence for its own wise reasons has 

allowed this earth for so many ages to become the battie- 

field between the powers of good and evil, the issue will 


decide for the fonner, — that a bright and happy era is in 
prospect, when wisdom and knowledge in their highest 
sense shall be " the stability of the times." In this con- 
clusion we may join as heartily as the most enthusiastic 
believer in the essential law of human progress. But as 
to the way in which this renovation of the race will be 
accomplished, it is quite certain that the Scriptures never 
attribute it to anything in man, which like a seed of slow 
but sure germination must infallibly reach its destined 
maturity. If thought and intelligence are necessarily 
progressive, and if in proportion to their advancement 
the moral and social virtues must also flourish, the 
present condition of Greece, of Italy, of once famous 
countries in Asia, is a mystery that no wit of man can 
unriddle. Equally in the dark we must be as to the 
results of political revolutions in Europe. How the 
struggles of enlightened Poland should only have bound 
her more firmly in the chains of her oppressor; how 
Holland could so far forget her own antecedents as to 
become a tyrant to the Belgians ; and how France, after 
chasing from the throne one tyrant after another, should 
submit to be bound hand and foot by her last imperial 
despot, are problems not to be solved by any progressive 
philosophy. That doctrine has no resting-place for the 
sole of its foot, and for any guarantee it can give us to the 
contrary, the day may yet come when Macaula/s New- 
Zealander standing on a broken arch of London Bridge 
to sketch the ruins of St Paul's, shall pass from a dream 
to a reality. 

The question then very naturally comes, — allowing that 
this theory of Man's advancing perfection is an erroneous 
one, how does it bear upon the spiritual well-being of 
those who embrace it? Evidently in this way, — that 
it wijl be always coming into antagonism wiUi those 
doctrines which lay the axe to the root of this imaginary 


good in human nature ; which ascribe aU real excellence 
in man to those spiritual operations which flow from 
the work of redemption ; and which still leave it with 
him as a responsible creature to improve or neglect 
the grace that under diligent cultivation can raise him 
again to the freedom and dignity of his rational and 
immortal being. Nor is it the least point of distinction 
between the two authorities, that whereas the former 
makes intelligence the pioneer of morality, the latter 
takes exactly the opposite course, and makes the future 
intellectual and social happiness of the world the effect 
— ^not the cause — of its spiritual freedom under the reign 
of righteousness. 

But this brings us to another part of the subject 
It will be remembered that in one of the articles quoted 
from the Comubian there was an indignant animadver- 
sion on the attempt of Captain Gambier to exclude 
Unitarians from co-operation with the Bible Society; 
and the writer argued that where religious sects and 
parties are so numerous, and where the shades of faith 
must consequently vary in so many ways, it must manifest 
a highly unchristian spirit for any one or more of these 
parties to arrogate to themselves the sole possession of 
Scriptural truth, and to deny it to other sections of the 
Church whose zeal might be as earnest and whose piety 
as irreproachable as their own. The champions of 
orthodoxy were reminded that in their warfare against 
Unitarianism they would do well to consider whether 
it was wise to measure arms with such antagonists as 
Milton, Locke, and Newton ; or, to come home to more 
modem times, whether they could find at the present 
day among English theologians a name more deservedly 
illustrious for intellect and piety than the celebrated 
Dr. Channing of America. 
. On this last name there partly hangs a tale. The 


woiks of Dr. Channing had recently come into the 
writer's hands, and in the style and mode of thinking 
which marked that brilliant author, he found what at 
that period was probably more congenial with his tastes 
than any thing to be elsewhere met with in religious 
literature. Indeed, the influence of Channing on his 
own thinking and writing amounted for a time almost 
to a fascination. His manner of expressing himself on 
Slavery, on political oppression, and on religious exclu- 
siveness, might at that time be called a fiu simile of 
his favorite author. Channing is never weary of dis- 
cussing the essential greatness of Man, his capacity for 
unlimited progress in mental and moral excellence, the 
high rank which he holds in the universe, and his 
grand destiny, as designed for an ever-growing likeness 
to and intercourse with the Father of Spirits. In some 
strange and unaccountable way God's creatures had 
become forgetful of this relationship they bear to the 
eternal Father, and it was necessary to send into the 
world his own Son, — for what purpose? To awaken 
the human mind to a consciousness of its own capacities; 
to purifiy it from its earthly and grovelling propensities 
by giving it a fuller revelation of immortality; and to 
quicken its aspirations after moral greatness by exhibiting 
in his own life and death the most illustrious type of 
consecration to duty and Truth. This is Channing's 
theology — a refined and baptized paganism ; for as to 
any thing about the entire fall of mankind through the 
first transgression, the natural corruption of the race, 
the atoning work of the Divine Mediator, and the 
regenerating grace of the Spirit — himself a personal and 
divine Elxistence, — all this is quietly thrown aside as 
so much superstitious lumber. 

In cases where a total indifference to the claims of 
religion is suddenly terminated by some startling dis- 


pensation which at once awakes the soul to its peril 
and to the value of that provision which alone can 
meet its necessities, the sentimental gospel we have 
alluded to has small chance of deceiving any one. 
There will be an immediate and instinctive perception 
that there is nothing about it which can give rest to 
the conscience or life to the spirit But it may be far 
otherwise even where there is much serious conviction 
of the importance attaching to spiritual concerns, and 
much eagerness to find something, both in creed and 
practice, by the adoption of which peace and security 
may be realized, — ^while as yet the world has too much 
hold-^t on the affections to make the religion of the 
Bible palatable. To a mind so circimistanced the 
general teaching of Unitarian theology, especially when 
arrayed in the graces of Dr. Channing's eloquence, may 
be all but irresistible. Visions of great moral excellence 
to be attained by a process in which the intellect figures 
much more prominendy than the heart ; and of a happy 
future life to follow a not very self-den3dng condition in 
the present, commend themselves with peculiar power to 
the feelings. In the instance before us, the predilections 
for such a scheme as Unitarianism furnished would be 
strengthened in no little measure by the well-known fact, 
that of all living characters Channing, as far as the 
outward life can be judged, was one of the most excel- 
lent Indeed the published memoirs of this American 
theologian bring us, as perhaps no other work can do, 
to the contemplation of that curious and most difficult 
of moral problems, — ^how far the intellect may take up 
with a radically unsound theology while the heart has 
yet given its devotion tb vital truth. The loveliness 
of Channing's private and public character, his self- 
sacrificing and incessant labors for the good of his 
fellow-men, the spotlessness of his life and the peaceful 


confidence of his dying hours, are all, as we should 
deem it, strangely at variance with real adhesion to a 
creed which, rejecting the one foundation of human 
hope, cannot contain in itself the elements of salvation. 
And further, the private memoranda of Channing, as 
well as various parts of his correspondence, exhibit a 
tone of evangelical feeling in happiest inconsistency with 
those polemical writings in which he attacks some of 
the leading doctrines of Christianity with scarcely even 
as* much reverence as those subjects may justly claim. 
It is well known that the general body of English 
Unitarians had very little sympathy with Channing's 
ideal of a religious life^ whatever approbation they might 
bestow on his controversial writings. Religion with him 
was at any rate an earnest and all-absorbing subject; 
and he both saw and lamented the fact, that in the 
majority of the churches sacred to the Unitarian iaith 
there was little or nothing but church-membership to 
distinguish the so-called believers from the mere men 
of the world It is a question, then, only to be deter- 
mined by another Authority, how far what is termed 
** invincible prejudice" placed the intellect of this gifted 
man in opposition to those deeper sentiments of faith 
and hope to which he clung in life and in death. The 
doctrines in which he had been trained from childhood 
where those of the most rigid American Calvinism ; 
and when personal thought and reflection led him to 
abjure that repulsive system, his recoil from a creed 
which had so long fettered him seems to have carried 
him to the opposite extreme; and to have made him 
the advocate of a faith which, while arraying the divine 
attributes in a milder character, leaves to man no scrip- 
tural basis for hope. 

The grounds on which the Comubian advocated the 
exercise of charity towards the Unitarian body, and the 


cultivating of a spirit of union in co-operatmg with 
them for the advancement of religion, will not stand a 
very close examination. The Unitarians are here placed 
on a common footing with other Christian «ects who, 
though widely differing on some theological points, 
are of one heart and soul on those great and funda- 
mental doctrines to which the former assign no place 
in their system. Whether so great a difference of 
religious tenets forbade a mutual agency in such a 
work as that of disseminating the Scriptures without 
note or comment, is a question we do not meddle 
with ; but it cannot be true that a refusal on the part 
of the Evangelical Churches to fraternize with Unitarians 
in the general work of the Gospel argues any want of 
charity; for the Christianity of the ti^'O parties has 
hardly any thing in common except the name. Nor 
is tRere much difficulty in dealing with the argument, 
that in holding up to opprobrium the Unitarian faith 
we are making heretics of such men as Newton, Milton, 
and Locke. In respect to the essential divinity of 
Christ, these men, it is tnie, differed from the Trini- 
tarian doctrine; but they were no more Unitarians, in 
the wide sense of that word, than Swedenborgians. Of 
them it is enough to say, that the doctrinal consequences 
to which their views of the second Person must have 
led them by a rigorous logic, they solemnly disclaimed; 
subscribing to the faith of the Church Catholic on the 
subjects of the Fall and Redemption. But we are also 
told, that as it cannot be denied that much difference 
of views may consist with equal goodness of heart, we 
are to remember in our dealings with other religious 
bodies that the scriptural test of character is, not •* by 
their creed ye shall know them,** but "by their fruits 
ye shall know them ; ** and that it certainly savors of 
great self-complacency to tell any section of our fellow- 


Christians that we regard them as lacking the virtues 
which we ourselves possess, while yet we can fix no 
stain upon their moral character^ This is granted; 
but if there be any importance at all in a sound form 
of words, it cannot be otherwise but that many cases 
of this nature must be absolutely determined by creed, 
the moral condition of the person professing such a 
creed being altogether a question between himself and 
his Maker. But finally we are told that those various 
phases of religious belief, though apparently very much 
to be deplored when regarded from one point of view, 
may yet be relatively beautiful when viewed in their 
combination. If so, then — says our authority — "the 
man who, because a certain creed suits his particular 
taste, should pass sentence of condemnation on all the 
others, ought, on the same principle, when finding in 
his garden the fruit most congenial to his palate, to 
cultivate that tree alone on which it grows, and root 
up all the others as heterodox cumberers of the soil. 
Such a man, when gazing on the rainbow, must regret 
that it is not all of that particular color on which his 
eye loves best to repose ; heedless that to each of 
the prismatic hues are we equally indebted for its splendid 
illustrations in lighting up the Arch of Promise." To 
which it will naturally be objected, that although the 
argument is beautifully put, it is grounded upon false 
analogies; — that while Poetry may talk of so many 
clashing and conflicting creeds forming by their union 
a system of harmonious truth, Philosophy holds back, 
and refuses to admit the possibility of such a phenomenon. 
No arch of promise was ever so constructed. 

But while the fact must be admitted that for a long 
time the writings of Channing had a very mischievous 
influence on his mind, they did not prejudice him against 
any vital doctrine of Scripture except that of three co-equal 


persons in the Godhead. With Channing's views of 
sin forgiven irrespective of a sacrificial atonement, and 
through no other medium but Grod*s paternal benevolence, 
he had no sympathy whatever. It will be remembered 
that Channing himself disowned the general Unitarian 
notion of Christ's simple humanity, holding him to be 
the highest of all the sons of God. It is also evident 
from some parts of his writings, that when his antagonism 
to orthodoxy was not the immediate object, he could 
speak of the work of the Cross in language very little 
in harmony with his professed views of it But he was 
uniformly consistent in his rejection of the doctrine 
which ascribes the attributes of Deity to the world's 
redeemer ; and on this point his admirer and quondam 
disciple was for a time content to follow with him. 
He found no difficulty in fortifying his belief with a 
number of Scripture passages which, when disjoined 
from the general body of revealed truth, seem widely 
different from the teachings of Trinitarian theology. 
The writer remembers spending a Sunday with him at 
Portreath, when after the Scriptures had been read at 
family devotion a discussion ensued on this subject, 
as suggested by the chapter, — ^John xiv. Such passages 
as the following were brought under review: — ^**No 
man cometh unto the Father, but by me." — " He that 
believeth on me — greater works than these shall he 
do, because I go unto the Father." — "Whatsoever ye 
shall ask, that will I do, that the Father may be glorified 
in the Son."— "I will pray the Father."— "He that 
loveth me shall be loved of my Father." — " My Father 
is greater than I." — ^" As the Father gave me command- 
ment, even so I do." The argument was propounded, 
that if we were speaking of any two distinct himuin 
beings, as master and servant, parent and child, king 
and subject, it would not be possible to use language 


more thoroughly implying distinction^ than the language 
here used. Here is one person pra3ang and another 
prayed unto; one person commanding and another 
obejring; one person greater and another less; and 
yet we are required to believe, after all, that these 
persons are one. This is just the way in which Chan- 
ning puts the argument; and however the case may 
stand with one who on such points had done little in 
comparing Scripture with Scripture, it does not say 
much for a professed theologian, that he should adopt 
this stale method of driving orthodoxy into a comer. 
It is a poor device for placing the Trinitarians on a 
footing with the good old father of the ancient Church, 
whose faith was so vigorous that not satisfied with 
the milk of deep mysteries, it desired the stronger 
meat of absolute impossibilities. 

To those who look with comparative indifference on 
the various phases of religious faith, such details as we 
are now concerned with may seem to possess but very 
slight importance. By others, they will justly be regarded 
as having a tenfold greater interest than everything con- 
nected with a political or literary career. The latter 
subject has to do with time and the things of time; the 
former has especial relation to the soul and its everiasting 
destinies. Erroneous theories, which, whatever practical 
bearing they may have on secular objects can extend 
their influence no farther, may in their very worst aspect 
be called wisdom itself compared with those errors which 
strike at the foundations of human peace and hope. In 
general, it may be said that a more perilous crisis can 
hardly be encountered than that in which a highly 
intelligent mind, — seriously impressed with the claims of 
religion, and yet well disposed to find something which 
will satisfy the conscience without coming to an open 
quarrel with the world — ^gets exposed to the allurements 

^02 MKMOm OF 

of Socinian theology. Of that school of divinity the 
leading writers are men of high education and refined 
taste, which certainly cannot be said of many a popular 
and influential writer on the other side. Perhaps it would 
be difficult to find a case more illustrative than the one 
before us, of Foster's celebrated Essay on the " Aversion 
of Men of Taste to Evangelical Religion." In this 
masterly essay the author has shown with his usual tact 
and discrimination, that although men of taste have to 
evangelical religion an aversion which, whether in them- 
selves or in others, requires nothing to explain it but the 
radical depravity of their nature, this aversion is in a 
thousand cases needlessly increased by the uncouth, 
forbidding, and repulsive character with which that 
religion is so oi^en invested by the well-meaning but 
mistaken writers who vindicate its claims. By what 
strange art they have so often succeeded in stripping of 
its beauty and its glory, that thing which is man's crown- 
ing excellence in this world as well as his passport to the 
joys of the next, it may not be easy to say, but it is 
certain that they have done so. Religion in their dc^eful 
and dreary pages is hardly anything better than lamenta- 
tion, mourning, and woe. Everything that degrades and 
condemns man, everything that sinks him in the mire of 
his natural corruption or practical iniquity, is exhibited 
and discussed with infinite relish ; while the essential 
grandeur of his nature even in its ruins, his lofty capadties 
for a dignity beyond that of unfallen angels, the peculiar 
honors to which as a subject of redemption he is privileged 
to attain — those brighter aspects of the picture where its 
deepest shadows melt into insufferable light and splendour 
— ^are all ignored, as though unsuitable to a creature 
always prone to think too highly of himself It is not 
improbable that this circumstance may to some extent 
serve as a key to that remarkable change which, even in 


the last quarter of a century, has passed on the pulpit 
and the religious press. In one respect it is hardly 
possible to speak too severely of the rage for what is 
called an ''intellectual" religion, which has made the 
most solemn and awful themes the vehicle of poetic 
and sentimental extravagance, and which has given us an 
order of preachers and writers in whose hands the truths 
of Scripture look more like a gorgeous romance than a 
provision for human salvation. But how much of this 
may be attributed to a spirit of impatience against the 
stereotyped dullness which to so vast an extent had pre- 
viously characterized religious teaching? The fashionable 
cry, that we are living in times when the pulpit must keep 
up with the progress of the age, is certainly capable of a 
good meaning; while fully admitting the truth of the 
objection, that no novelties are wanted in rehgion. The 
grand doctrines given as man's guiding star to immortality 
are fixed and setded as the heavens; nothing can be added 
to them, nothing taken from them. But those doctrines 
themselves are capable of being unfolded and illustrated 
with a never-failing freshness and variety; and if in this 
respect the pulpit lags behind the march of intellect in 
other departments, it can hardly retain its power over 
the educated classes. Nor will it do to say that this 
doctrine puts the power of the ministry into the hands of 
men; it certainly does nothing of the sort For if it be 
granted that, while all that can make religious instruction 
vital and mfluential is a directly spiritual gift, there 
must nevertheless be same intellectual exertion on the part 
of the instructor, it only remains to be asked, how far 
such spiritual assistance is likely to be given when the 
greatest of all subjects is not deemed worthy of all that 
the highest intelligence can do for its illustration and 

It was well for the subject of these pages that while 


thus solicited by prejudices strongly fevoring the tenets of 
that sect whose religion has not inaptly been called the 
half-way house to infidelity, he could only find them in 
books. His Christian connections, and the ministiy 
which he attended, were all of another stamp; and this 
ceaseless collision between them both resulted — ^as will 
generally be the case where there is real earnestness after 
truth — in the casting down of those thoughts and imagina- 
tions which so &r neutralize the truth of the gospel 
Nor was he blind to another very obvious and telling fact, 
— that, whatever might be said in behalf of that liberal 
theology which takes to itself no small credit for rescuing 
man from corrupt doctrine, it had never done much in the 
way of rescuing man from his (mm corruption. The advo- 
cates of a creed so enlightened, so firee from vulgar mystery, 
so fraught with all that exalts God and ennobles man, ought 
if consistent with themselves to compass sea and land for 
the extension of a faith worthy of every man's reception. 
But what have they done? What privileged persons have 
had the honor of reading their Missionary Reports? 
Where is the record of their perilous joumeyings on the 
land and on the deep, over the mountains and across the 
deserts, jeopardizing health, life — ^all, for bringing the 
nations to the obedience of ihis faith? " By their firuits," 
says the Comubiany '' not by th^ir creed, shall ye know 
them." True ; but if the Scriptures describe the fruits of 
genuine Christianity as evidenced not only by personal 
purity of character, but by that philanthropy which gives 
itself no rest while a single nation upon earth is unvisited 
with the light of the Gospel, no more needs be said on 
such a subject 

The state of reaction from a condition of doubt and 
perplexity as to certain doctrines of religion may tend to 
different results. It may issue in a vigorously practical 
defence of those principles which had been comparatively 


repudiated, and which are now vindicated with so much 
the greater energy from the fact that they have hitherto 
been debarred from asserting their just claims. Or it 
may — as not improbably in the case of the person before 
us— engender a distaste for controversial divinity, from a 
notion — too hastily adopted — ^that it will be more fruitful 
of mental disquiet than of any good practical conse- 
quences. It is certain that from the time when he 
became partaker of the peaceful and hallowing influences 
of that Scriptural faith from which he had long been 
diverted, he never evidenced much liking for books or 
sermons which went deeply into disputed points of 
theology. In the meantime he cheerfully gave himself 
to the performance of such public duties as the church of 
which he was a member thought proper to call him ; and 
whether as connected with the charge of a Wesleyan 
"class,'' or occasionally occup3dng the pulpit in the circuit 
chapels, or engaged at public meetings in the advocacy of 
whatever claims could be advanced by religious or philan- 
thropical societies, found a sphere of action generally 
crowned with great acceptance and usefidness. 



The succeeding pages of these Memoirs have to do with 
a life that from this period presents nothing of much 
notice in the way of biographical incident, and is mainly 
interesting to the general reader in its relation to politics 
and literature. The conductor of the Comubian had, as 
before stated, retired from his connection with that journal 
some considerable time before the journal itself ceased to 
exist After some years in which little was done in the 
way of writing he became a frequent contributor to the 
West Britorty one of the oldest established Cornish 
newspapers, with the political views of which he generally 
sympathized. A selection from the various topics which 
employed his pen from the year 1840 to the closing 
period of his life, as well as some miscellaneous papers 
and correspondence, will suffice for our present limits. 
We observe in looking over the weekly register of public 
events with which the year 1840 closed up, a record of 
that strange proceeding on the part of the French — the dis- 
interment of Napoleon's remains at St. Helena, and their 
transference to the capital of his former kingdooL Our 
first extract from the West Briton relates to this circum. 
jstance : — 

" The present generation will probably pass away with- 
out again witnessing so splendid a pageant as was exhibited 
at Paris on Monday se'nnight Even as a pageant — ^and 
without referring to its object — the scene must have been 
singularly striking. The military cavalcade which formed 
the procession exceeded in number and in decorative 
splendour any similar one with which memory, or even 


history furnishes us. It was an army rather than a pro- 
cession. Next in depth and intensity to the emotions 
awakened by scenes of natural beauty and grandeur, are 
those which spring from the contemplation of such multi- 
todinotts masses of humanity. The correspondents of the 
London prints represent the population on the Seine as 
looking on with cold indifference while the remains of the 
Emperor were borne along its course to the place of 
landing, and we regret to observe a complaint in the 
French journals that an injustice has thus been done to 
the national character. But it seems to us that the silence 
preserved throughout the march, both by the processional 
bodies and the immense array of spectators, was the most 
appropriate and expressive testimony of feeling which the 
occasion admitted. But whatever thoughts were upper- 
most in the minds of the multitude on the march, there 
was no room for questioning the sincerity of devotion 
with which the remains were received at the chapel of the 
Invalides. It must form an era in the life of the man 
who witnessed that scene. From the rock of St Helena, 
and the field of Waterloo, imagination flew back to the 
scenes of his glory and his triumph, when throne after 
throne fell before his arms, and the imperial eagle flapped 
her wings over the western half of Continental Europe. 
We do not feel that the unjustifiable character of 
Napoleon's conquests forbids us to pay a tribute of 
admiration to the fidelity with which his memory is 
cherished by his companions in arms. It is a phase, 
too, which we delight to contemplate in Napoleon himself, 
that he had in a remarkable degree the power of winning 
the attachment of men whose situation in life could offer 
DO temptation to affect towards them a kindness which he 
did not feeL We doubt not die perfect sincerity of the 
tears which were wept like rain by the veterans who had 
fought with him on a hundred fields, as they thronged 


around his corpse at the place of sepulture. But we turn 

from all whose nobility or valour made them ornaments of 

his court, or the cqunciUors of his camp, to one ^ose 

disinterested and unchangeable affection more strikingly 

redounds to his honor. A ipwx man who we believe 

was Napoleon's gardener at Longwood, was so strongly 

attached to him, tiiat after his death he became the 

voluntary guardian of his grave. He remained on the 

island after his countrjrmen had quitted, and was found 

by them, on their return for the remains, still occupying 

his post at his master's tomb. We know of nothing more 

honorable to Napoleon's character than this touching 

proof of fidelity. We cannot, however, but regret that 

his remains were removed from St Helena. We dare not 

permit the splendor of his conquests, or the chivalrous 

devotion which honors his memory, to blind us to his 

guilty ambition, or to the miseries it inflicted upon 

mankind. Nothing under the sun taught so impressively 

the instability of ev^ry throne founded in unrighteousness^ 

as the tomb of Napoleon breaking upon the sight of the 

mariner amid the solitude of the ocean desert; and we 

may be permitted to regret that the force and reality of 

this lesson should be marred by the removal of his ashes." 

In the meantime a general election was forthcoming in 

this country. The Whig Ministry had broken up under 

Sir Robert Peel's *^ want of confidence " resolution, and 

as questions of more than ordinary magnitude were b^;in- 

ning to stir the public mind, the greatest eagerness was 

everywhere manifested in regard to the construction of 

the ensuing parliament Lord Boscawen had offered 

himself for the western division of Cornwall, at that time 

represented by two gentlemen far a-head of the new 

candidate in their views of those liberal measures in favor 

of which the tide of public opinion was then rapidly 

setting in. If his lordship was disappointed of the honor 


to which he aspired, he had at least such '' crambs of 
consolation" as the following article might afford him. 

''It is often remarked that diere is nq gift of which Provi- 
dence is so frugal in the distribution, as intellectual power. 
But on the other hand it is a truth to which the lessons 
of history give ample confirmation, that great crises pro- 
duce great men, and that consequently an unsuspected 
amount of native ability may slumber in the mind until 
drawn forth by opportune events. Cromwell and Napo- 
leon were the creatures of revolutionary times. Luther 
would have dozed away his existence in a monastery had 
not his energies been roused by the abuses of the papacy. 
The genius of Butler was kindled into life by the appear- 
ance of the civil wars. The eloquence of Chatham 
flamed forth only amid the excitement of politics, — like 
the rainbow, bom of the storm, and dying with it And 
thus it is that stirring times make men, as well as native 
powers ; and that under the influence of great events they 
unconsciously become poets, and statesmen, and heroes. 
We are now entered upon an eventful crisis in English 
history. Never were more important interests at stake. 
Our commercial greatness is giving signs of decadence. 
The vital elements of the country are shewing alanning 
symptoms of paralysis tmder the pressure of restrictive and 
prohibitory laws. Our fiscal code must be re-constructed. 
And while anxiously looking about us for the skill and 
intelligence, the tried sagacity, practical wisdom, and 
enlightened political philosophy, which are to reinforce 
our strength and give new life to the drooping system, — a 
buzz goes through the air that a mighty help is at hand, 
and there steps forth — ^my Lord Boscawen. In this im- 
portant crisis his lordship volunteers his services for the 
representation of the western division of Cornwall in the 
ensuing parliament. It should excite our gratitude that 
the favor has been unsolicited; that the offer has not 


been made by the tardy benevolence which requires 
prompting ; but has sprung spontaneously from his own 
generous mind. Superior ability is generally accompanied 
by retiring modesty, but if this modesty were always to 
prevent such ability being exercised, it might as well 
never be conferred. Lights are not always to shine 
under bushels. His lordship feels the force of these 
truths, and at the expense of some violence to his bash- 
fiilness offers himself as the political guardian of the 
interests of West Cornwall. It is ungracious to decline 
great honors, but there happens at present to be some 
difficulties in the way of our availing ourselves of his 
lordship's kindness^ to which he does not seem to have 
given due consideration. The two gentlemen who have 
so long and so faithfully represented the western division 
Have neither of them expressed an intention to relinquish 
their posts ; nor are we aware that the great body of the 
electors are disposed to make any change in the repre- 
sentation. This circumstance his lordship in the fervor 
of his patriotic zeal must have overlooked j and we beg 
to intimate that unless he can manage to have three mem- 
bers returned for the west, we cannot possibly benefit by 
his good intentions." 

On the introduction of a bill into Parliament for the 
admission of Jews into the House of Commons, we have 
the subjoined under date of February, 1S41. 

''We notice with much interest the measure now in 
progress through parliament for a further extension of 
civil rights to the Jews. Although there has been nothing 
new in the arguments which have been urged against this 
measure, we think proper, as they have been again re- 
peated, to pass them in brief review.** 

" It is contended that the Jews are a distinct people ; 
that though united with others in the common business 
of life, they are yet isolated from the general community 


by a bond of religious union. But the same may be said 
of all other religious bodies. Churchmen, Wesleyans, 
Baptists, Quakers, — ^they all unite in the intercourse of 
daily life, while yet divided as religionists into distinct' 
communities. There is nothing in the religion of the 
Jew, any more than in theirs, which unfits him for paitici- 
patipn in civil rights or the discharge of civil duties ; and 
it is only with respect to such rights and duties that he 
asks to be placed on an equality with his fellow-subjects. 
If it were proposed to make Sir Moses Montefiore a 
bishop, or Mr. Hurwitz a Regius Professor of Divinity, 
we could understand how the Jewish religion would inca- 
pacitate them for such offices. But when it is proposed 
to admit them only to the common privileges which pro- 
perty confers upon all other men, we see no distinction 
between them and others. Though we differ from the 
Jew's religion, we unite with him in secular interests; 
and while it is only in relation to such interests that he 
wishes to fraternize with us, we are at a loss to discover 
the wisdom of that philosophy which teaches that while 
we are severed from him in matters on which we differ, 
we must also remain dissociated in those on which we 

'' But it is also argued that the Jews do not feel the 
force of that national attachmeht which makes other men 
cleave to their native soilj that they look upon the 
country in which they live merely as a place of sojourn, 
a temporary location, until they shall again be gathered 
into one nation. And suppose it were so; is it any argu- 
ment that, because they look forward to a general restor- 
ation of their remote posterity, the present generation 
shall be treated as aliens? We deny, too, that the Jew 
wants local attachment more than any other man. Love 
of country is not the result of any reasoning process, but 
is an instinctive feeling in human nature, and that nature 


must be cntirdj changed hekxc it can be rooted ooL It 
Ihres and grows among all deeds. It does not bdoog to 
Chrisdan, or Jev, or Heatben, merdty as sndi, but to 
Mao, wherever fbund, and whatever may be his social or 
religioas condition. Aie we told that this is not verified 
by fiurts ? SktL Inglis, Mr. Gladstone, and others may 
refer us to the page of English histoiy, and ask in a tone 
of triumph idhedier it bears any recoid of the patriotic 
attadmient of the Jews to their natiye soil? Itdoesnoc 
And why? Because the state has always treated them as 
aliens and foes. We cut them off from the common 
privil^es of our countrymen and then complain diat 
they are not patriotic. We d^irade, insult, and persecute 
than, and then charge them with bdng nnsorial, and 
keeping themselves as a distinct people. We make them 
' distinct ' and then punish them for being sa" 

" Another (allacy. It is said that the present Bill if 
carried into a law, will unchristianize the country. Can 
any thing, it is asked, be more monstrous, than that a 
Jewish magistrate should sit on a bench of justice, admin- 
istering an oath to a witness on a book in which be is not 
himself a believer. Now the monstrosity is exactly 
matched by a case of frequent occurrence, — that of a 
Christian judge administering to a Mahometan an oath 
on the Koran. The duty of a magistrate is to administer 
the law, and the law remains the same whether dealt by 
a Christian or a Jew. In tending an oath the question 
is, not what form of attestation is most binding on the 
magistrate, but on the witness, — ^a slight distinction which 
men of the Inglis school happen to overlook; and there- 
fore we can discover no enormity in an oath on the New 
Testament being administered by a Jew.** 

" But we come to a graver consideration. It is asserted 
that by granting political rights to the Jews we shall oppose 
ourselves to the fulfilment of prophecy. That such an 


argument as this should be urged or listened to by men of 
ordinary sense, is astonishing, involving as it does the 
dishonoring implication that our aid is necessary to the 
accomplishing of the designs of the Almighty. But 
admitting that the prophecies left no room for a doubtful 
interpretation, where, we ask, are our credentials for 
assuming the office of ministers of divine wrath? Not 
only must the prophecy be clear, but the avenging com- 
mission must be equally so. We doubt not the deep 
consciousness of those who oppose the Jewish claims, 
that they possess in themselves all the peculiar qualifica- 
tions which fit them to become ministers of wrath. But 
we deny that even the possession of the sublimest 
capacities for inflicting punishment is sufficient warranty 
for entering upon the office. There must be an express 
delegation, and no such delegation has been made. Per- 
mission is not given to malign passions to disguise them- 
selves as executors of the divine will ' Do unto all men 
as ye would they should do unto you,' is an obligation 
binding every man, whether Jew or Gentile. Here our 
path is clear, and instead of seeking a commission to 
become ministers of wrath, we prefer abiding by the law 
which commands us to become ministers of mercy." 

A comparison of the above with an article on this 
subject which appeared in the Comuliian some ten years 
previously, will shew that the same hand and pen were at 
work. The arguments in the main are the same, and 
indeed the whole question, as generally discussed by the 
opposite parties, has borne such a stereotyped character 
that the reader of the parliamentary debates had small 
difficulty, when the Jew Bill came before him, to antici- 
pate all that would be said on the one side and all that 
would be replied on the other. At present the strife is 
over; the Jew has made his way into the divan of the 
Gentiles, and the legislative honors for which he struggled 


SO long with a strange pertinacity, have crowned his per- 
severing ambition. Ta whatever cause his success be 
attributed, logic has had small share in befriending or 
opposing his claims. The staple arguments against him, 
— ^that he is a foreigner; that he is on his on his way 
to Palestine; that he has no attachment to the soil of 
England; that his adinission to the House would un* 
christianize the Government; and that he is marked out 
by prophecy as a subject of the divine vengeance — are 
such as unquestionably afiford a very cheap and easy 
victory to the gainsayers. Both have generally found it 
convenient either to forget or to elude the real question 
at issue, — ^whether the legislature of this country has 
or has not the element of Christianity. That is, not 
whether the majority of its members must be Christians^ 
nor whether the Christianity of such persons should be 
an]rthing more than a profession; but whether the legisla- 
ture, as an institution, is based on a solemn recognition of 
the Christian faith. If it is not— if in this respect it is 
exactly on a level with the Stock Exchange or the East 
India Company — ^no more can be said. But the fact is 
otherwise; and, to a certain extent, that fact is recognized 
and practically acted upon. If Parliament is a purely 
secular institution, it would neither be disgraced in charac- 
ter nor impeded in operation, should the Jews at any day 
form its majority. But no such state of things would be 
tolerated; and in fact, the Jew is still shut out from 
offices and situations which he might fill as efficiently as 
a Christian. This is done for the simple reason that he 
is not a ChristiaiL The whole of this so-called charity 
to the Jews is a mere misnomer. The Hebrews are 
admitted to the House of Commons purely on the 
assumption that they will never muster there in any great 
number; the whole question being one of detail rather 
than principle. 


There was, however, a very large portion of Her 
Majesty's loyal subjects, who, while looking with com- 
parative indifference on the claims of the Israelites, 
had their sensibilities touched to the quick by claims of 
a very different character. Sir Robert Peel found 
himself at the head of affairs with that plague of a 
statesman, an impoverished exchequer; and the ears 
of John Bull were very soon made to tingle with the 
cry of an income-tax. The mingled grief and indigna- 
tion with which this obnoxious impost was at first 
greeted through the length and breath of the land, are 
too well known to need comment Probably the con- 
sternation would not be lessened by foreseeing that 
the three years which Sir Robert assigned as the limits 
of this tax were more likely to be three prophetical 
years than ordinary periods of 365 days each. It has, 
however, been shrewdly observed that while the nation 
was given to hope for the expuudon of the tax within 
the time specified, this same tax is beginning already 
to challenge Stonehenge and the Pyramids. Referring 
again to our political authority, we have as follows : 
''Have you filled up your schedule" is the question 
one hears asked now by everybody of everybody. 
All are in an internal ferment about their schedules. 
Nobody fills up these hatefiil things till the last day. 
The business is put ofi^ like taking physic or parting with 
a tooth. Meanwhile the presence of the document 
under one's roof is felt to be a nuisance, a degrada- 
tion. Then, how to fill them up — ^there's the rub. 
People go to lawyers, and the lawyers give opposite 
opinions. Some of them seem to ^cy that when they 
have made their returns the affair is off their hands : 
they will soon be tmdeceived. Their invoices, ledgers, and 
balance-sheets will be exposed to the rude handling of 
prying ofiUcials. Men with noses like pointers will crowd 


around them and smell out every item to which the idea 
of property can be attached. And this is the state of 
things in Great Britain ten years after the passing of 
the Reform BiU ! " 

" We are always willing to speak of Sir Robert Peel 
with the respect due to his merits and abilities. But 
we doubt if there is another man in England so egre- 
giously over-rated. He has qualities which make an 
imposing appearance on the surface, but you dip very 
little beneath before you come to soundings. With all 
his bustling importance we are convinced that he will 
cut but a sorry figure in history. His is not the fame 
which can flourish in the ' calm silent air of immortality.' 
Some people are always praising his voluble utterance, 
and his promptness and tact in debate; but these are 
not qualities ^at of themselves merit any respect He 
has certainly made improvements in various laws, but 
he has originated nothing. He has effected the reforms 
which others have planned. But this merely instrumen- 
tal fame does not mark a very high order of statesmanship. 
Far be it from us, nowithstanding, to say that his reputa- 
tion is wholly made up of shreds and patches. The 
Income Tax is his. This is PeePs own. Here he stands 
alone in his glory. And yet it is not improbable that 
he caught an inkling of this from the practice of some 
of our monarchs in the good old times, who, when 
desperately in want of cash, were accustomed to lay 
hold of the Jews and compel them to replenish the royal 
exchequer. But Sir Robert is more, comprehensive ; 
he includes Jews and Christians in one general plucking. 
He scorns to make a distinction of religions. He only 
asks if a man has money, and if so, his fingers are instantly 
upon it In Sir Robert's hands pocket-picking is become 
a science. Here his true fame will rest As you cannot 
think of Watt but in connexion with the steam-engme. 


or of Davy without the associated image of the safety- 
lamp, so the glory of the income tax will shine around 
the name of PeeL But any panegjnic of ours is wasted 
upon such merit Tributes of praise from the pen or the 
life are of small value to him who counts upon the more 
sterling homage of the pocket ; and soon will ten thou- 
sands of pockets be poiuring forth their treasures in 
testimony to his daring genius and imperishable renown." 
And about two months later — " We are indebted to 
the Quarterly Review for a very important discovery, — 
that the public are highly pleased with the Income Tax. 
We were a happy people before, but one thing was 
wanting to consummate our felicity, and that ultimate 
good we have at length obtained. Regarding the testi- 
mony as decisive, we cannot but be struck with the 
calm equanimity with which this stroke of good fortune 
has generally been borne. There has been no boisterous 
exultation, no outbreak of popular joy, none of that wild 
enthusiasm of delight which men of vulgar souls display 
on receiving great and unexpected benefits. This is very 
honorable to the national character. It marks a great 
mind to possess a mastery over the feelings. We see 
too how ordinary observers are apt to be mistaken. From 
what we see and hear around us, we should ourselves 
have reported unfavorably of this tax. But the Quarterly 
discovers in the imder current of popular feeling a glow 
of happiness of which there is no superficial indication. 
Who will now deny that Sir Robert Peel is a great man ? 
His sagacity saw from the beginning that his favorite 
measure would be hailed as a general blessing. Newton, 
by a reasoning which none but himself were aware of, 
pronounced the diamond to be inflammable ; and when 
opportunity was given for making the experiment, he was 
foimd to be correct We therefore pronounce Peel to be 
a great man. Nobody before him ever found out a 

2i8 MSyfOlR OF 

pleasant tax. It is as great a feat as dulcifying Epsom 
salts. Everybody, according to the Quarterly^ delights 
to take the Peel pill." 

Close on the heels of this questionable laudation of Sir 
Robert comes a sharp rebuke to Mr. Plumptre for 
presuming to interfere with the annual grant to the 
Maynooth College. ^ 

"There are people in tiie world to whom we would 
not willingly refuse the credit of right principle and 
even religious sensibility, but who are yet wondeiiully 
sour-tempered, and who always rise to the imagination 
with a disagreeable aspect. Such a man is Mr. Plumptre, 
one of the members for Kent This gentleman thinks 
it always incumbent on him, as a matter of conscience, 
to oppose the annual grant to Maynooth College; and 
he does this, as he alleges, on tiie ground ^t the 
people of a Protestant State ought not to expend 
money in supporting the errors of Popery. Mr. Plumptre 
appears to be as slow in his perceptions as he is quick 
in his resentments, or he would have discovered before 
now that that cannot be called a Protestant State of 
which one third is Catholic, nor can the revenues they 
jointly raise be called Protestant money. If the taxes 
paid by the Protestant and Catholic parts of the 
population were put into two separate bags, and the 
Maynooth grant paid out of the Catholic bag instead of 
the Protestant, Mr. Plimiptre's difficulty, in the form he 
states it, would be fully met If his views go no further, 
why does he not bring forward a motion for thus {h^ 
serving inviolate the sanctity of the Protestant pocket ? 
Mr. P. and the gentlemen who represent him have not 
a livelier contempt for the mummeries of popery than 
ourselves. Nothing appears to us more absurd, except 
that poor imitation of them which has lately sprung up 
in this country under the name of Puseyism. The com- 


mon end of both is to supersede a spiritual worship by 
a mere ritual of pantomime. But while popery paralyses 
the reason of the devotee by the splendor and profusion 
qS its sensible imagery, Puseyism has just enough of it to 
offend the judgment without captivating the senses^ But 
ill as we think of Catholicism it is still our opinion that 
this rdigion is better than no religion. Mr. P. and his 
friends alwajrs talk of the Catholics as if their choice lay 
between their own religion and ours; whereas it lies 
between that and none; for we have no more right to 
call on the Catholics to become Protestants, than we 
have to force the Turks or the Hindoos to become such. 
And the choice lying between Catholicism or Nothingism, 
we stand up for the former, upon Peter Plymlejr's princi- 
ple, — that it is better to have seven millions of Catholics 
than seven millions of wild beasts." 

The grand questicm, however, which at this time began 
to stir the nation to its depths was that of the Corn-Laws. 
The Anti-Com-Law League had started into existence, 
and the Protective system was ordained to stand forth 
fully and £wly at the bar of public opinion. Lord John 
Russell in resigning office had announced his determina- 
tion to support a very extensive amendment of the law 
which r^^ulated the import of foreign com, the views of 
the noble lord being at that time not very far a-head of a 
moderate fixed duty. Sir Robert Peel was in office as 
the understood supporter of what was thought to be the 
agricultural interest ; but with sundry notions and cogita- 
tions of his own which at that time were not allowed to 
become public property. In the meantime the League 
were holding meetings by the score and disseminating 
tracts by the million, and as persons of the opposite way 
of thinking would not deem it good policy to let them 
have the game entirely in their own hands, other public 


meetings were held, of which the one at Atherstone 
fiimished the columns of the W. B, with some pleasant 

''The Anti-Com-Law League has had its day; its fate 
is sealed. The decisive blow has been given at a meet- 
ting of Pro-com-law-ites held at Atherstone. At this 
meeting it was resolved to oppose the League, tooth and 
nail, by a subscription for printing and circulating cheap 
pamphlets and hand-bills in refutation of those distributed 
by the League ; and in furtherance of this design the 
assembly subscribed — five shillings." 

'* Men who do not see far into the causes of things 
may laugh at this; but it is really no laughing matter. 
To us there appears something truly great ^n it Some 
philosophic mind must have been at work on this 
occasion, — some intellect capable of detecting the fine 
analogy which subsists between the human body and 
the body politic, and of applying to the latter the bold 
homoeopathic treatment which has lately excited so much 
attention in its application to the former. The mind, 
like the body, is now to be operated upon in infini- 
tesimal doses. There is a striking boldness and originality 
in the conception. The League has circulated a himdred 
tons of tracts; the Atherstone meeting intend to dis- 
tribute five shillings worth. A more beautiful application 
of Hahneman*s theory cannot be conceived Five shillings 
worth of letter-press is to be scattered over the length 
and breadth of the land. This impalpable pill is to be 
placed on the tip of the public tongue, and thence send a 
restorative influence through the entire system. We axe 
so struck with the ingenuity of the experiment that we 
do not like to predict its failure. On further considera- 
tion, however, it strikes us that this device of the 
Monopolists is not quite new. On refreshing our 


memory a little, we £uicy they have long been acting 
upon the homoeopathic plan. Whatever information or 
argmnent they have afforded us has generally been 
administered in infinitesimal doses. We have no recol- 
lection of any copious supply j and the thing has hitherto 
been rather a failure. Experience, therefore, gives but 
little hope of success. Still, we admire the energy of 
perseverance, and should more fortunate results attend 
the spirited effort we have mentioned, we will not fail 
duly to report of the same." 



In comiDencing the political struggle for the 3rear 1843, 
an elaborate address was drawn up for the public, in 
which the various topics which would probably have 
to be freely handled were briefly touched upon; the 
whole being prefaced by the following observations : — 

'^ The day on which this number appears reminds us 
that we are yearly as well as weekly chroniclers; and 
in passing another landmark on the pathway of time 
we are naturally led to take a retrospect of the scenes 
which the past year has unfolded to us. A single year, 
in the present state of society, can scarcely go by with- 
out leaving deep and permanent traces behind it; and 
is often crowded with more important events than those 
which distinguished a century in remote periods of our 

"It is indeed but a verbal license to speak of time 
as fleeting. It does not really fly. What we call the 
present is in truth the whole acciunulated amoimt of 
the past, which remains with us increasing for ever. 
The present is a mirror in which the past beholds its 
every lineament reflected. But why should we attempt 
in lame prose what the bard of Sheffield — ^not the sturdy 
steel-worker, but the meek Moravian — has sung in im- 
mortal verse? — 

' There is no past ; from Natare's birth 
Days, months, years, ages, till the end 
Of these revolving heavens and earth. 

All to one centre tend : 
And having reached it late or soon, 
Conveige, as in a lens, the rays 
Caught from the fountain light of noon. 
Blend in a point that blinds the gase : 
What has been, is ; what is, shall last : 
The present is the /ociw of the past.' 


" If this be trtie, — ^and all poetry so beautifiil as this 
has a soul of truth in it— then we have one year 
more in possession than we had last Christmas. We 
are richer, instead of poorer, in time; and instead of 
lamenting the flight of a year, we have to rejoice at 
having added another to our stocL Yet however 
plausible this doctrine may at first appear to the 
fancy, the heart rejects it instantly as a fallacy. It is 
at once true and false. It is true that history is a 
year richer, but we individually are a year poorer; and 
the enlarged scope of observation and experience is 
birt a poor compensation for the contraction in the 
term of our own being. Our youthful readers witness 
with scarcely a feeling of regret the flight of a year, 
as a scarcely perceptible diminution of their own period 
of existence ; but to us, a year is become a matter of 
great moment The loss of one is felt as a sad cur- 
tailment of our slender stock, — slender even on the* 
most liberal calculation that probability allows. We 
begin, with Charles Lamb, 'to feel those audits but 
too powerfully, to count the probabilities of our dura- 
tion, and to grudge at the expenditure of moments and 
short periods, like misef s farthings. In proportion as 
the years both lessen and shorten, we set more count 
upon their periods, and would fain lay our inefifectual 
finger upon the spoke of the great wheel.'" 

"But we forget that we are not philosophical but 
political scribblers, and must turn to our vocation. 
, "Politics" says Dr. Croly, "is the weakest exercise of 
the human understanding." This is a hard saying, 
Doctor; and to our taste not very palatable. Nor 
does it come with the best grace from your lips, for 
you yourself figured as a political writer, and a very 
pungent and accomplished one, too — ^in the old Monthly^ 
until you were silenced by what nobody ever offered us 


good living. Manjr would redie Irani policies to 
repose tfaemselves itpoa a ddie^sheaf^ bat there isahoaidf 
Scotch pr ov erb niiicfa should prevent them Irani tailing 
at their <rfd calling. Bat this dictnm of die Doctoc's 
like that we last spoke of, is both true and £dse. It does 
not prove thata thing is wcvtibless because a great deal of 
nonsense has been uttered about it There is more 
nonsense talked about religion than about anydiing else 
in the world, yet religion is the best thing in the world, 
notwithstanding. Next to it, the most nonsense is talked 
about politics, yet it is the next best thing. In political 
as well as in religious or any other discussions, less 
depends upon the native dignity of the theme than upon 
the ability of the controversialists; and as a hundred 
ninnies to one wise man is probably a liberal estimate of 
society, there will be a hundred times more nonsense than 
sense delivered upon general subjects of debate. Yet 
this does not prove, of any of these subjects, diat it is the 
weakest exercise of the understanding. So the Doctcn's 
doctrine — ^to which we advert merely because it happens 
just now to turn up in our mind, and we give ourselves 
to-day the liberty of rambling just where we please — goes 
to the wall" 

Nothing of importance to these pages presents itself 
until the latter part of the year, when the free-trading 
party made the very agreeable discovery that the agricul- 
turists themselves were coming about to their way of 
thinking: — 

"Our readers may remember a pleasant &ble of 
Moore's, in which a Persian lord is very wrathful with 
some fire-worshippers, who border on his grounds. He 
drives them away, but finds it less easy to extinguish the 
fires which they leave behind them. To prevent these 
from spreading, however, he claps on them a great 
number of wooden extinguishers, which serve his pur- 


pose for a time, but at length the disastrous news is 
brought him that these dampers themselves are on fire : — 

' That they— the tnisty, blind machixies, 
His lordship had so long been pndaing, 
As, nnder ProTidenoe, the means 
Of keeping down all lawless biasing. 
Were now themselves — alas, too true 
The shameful fact— tum'd blazers too ; 
And by a change, as cold as oniel. 
Instead of dampers, served for fuel.' 

'' We are reminded of this story by the state of the 
Corn-law agitation. Before the last election a good deal 
of light had been kindled throughout the country, which 
was just as obnoxious to the eyes of our lords as the fires 
of the Ghebers were to our Persian brother. Like him 
too, they looked about to find a lot of extinguishers, and 
as the best for their purpose clapped on the farmers in a 
body to smother these heretical fires. At first the ex- 
periment succeeded to admiration. In almost every 
county the fimners were found to be capital extinguishers. 
But as Thomas Carlyle says, 'no lie can live;' and the 
protectionist fallacy seems to have had its day. The 
^urmers are finding out that they have been duped, and 
are taking a wise revenge for the delusion that has be^i 
practised on them. As with the Persian dampers, their 
close contact with the flame, instead of quenching it has 
kindled them. They are become the foremost advocates 
for a change, and now that the extinguishers themselves 
are on fire, we know not how the landlords are to stop 
the conflagration." 

" We doubt if ever so great a change took place upon 
public opinion in this country, as that which during the 
last twelve months has taken place on the corn-laws. 
But, rapidly as the tide of opinion had been setting in the 
free-trade direction, we certainly had not supposed that 


226 . MEMOIR OF 

the process of conversion was going on so powerfully 
among the agriculturalists themselves as among the other 
classes of the community. The meetings, however, that 
have lately been held in the exclusively agricultural 
districts must satisfy the most inveterate doubter that the 
fanners are becoming quite as enlightened on this subject 
as the rest of their countrymen. At a recent meeting at 
Lewes, in Sussex, an almost unanimous resolution was 
passed in favor of abolishing protective duties. Now it 
will not do to say that Mr. Cobden went down to Sussex, 
and seduced the farmers into an involuntary admiration 
of his theories. The vote of the meeting is an index of 
the change which had been silently taking place in the 
minds of the audience before. But more unpalatable to 
the monopolists than even the results of such meetings, 
and as a sign of the times more strikingly significant, is 
the return, by a large majority, of Mr. Bright for the city 
of Durham. This circumstance augurs most favorably 
for the returning good sense of the community, and 
indicates an alteration of political views, which we believe 
is becoming general throughout the whcde constituent 
body of the country." 

The hopeful prospects thus l3ang before the anti- 
monopolists were brightened rather than clouded by the 
fact that the parliament assembled in the early part of 
1844 still contained a ministerial majority decidedly 
opposed to any such alteration in the Corn-laws as was 
advocated by the League. And it is worthy .of notice, 
that the writer in the W, B, zigatdjrom this very fad 
that the repeal of those laws might be regarded ascertain. 
Two men were swaying the national councils — Sir Robert 
Peel and the Duke of Wellington — of whom it was 
observed, that '^ when loudest in their profession against 
a measure, they have always been secretly preparing to 
carry it," — a left-handed compliment, certainly, but the 


well known history of Catholic Emancipation was one 
evidence in point As to free trade in com, it is quite 
true that Sir Robert Peel indignantly denied that he had 
accepted office under any pledge to stand by the sliding 
scale; and he was right It better suited his purpose to 
allow a tacit understanding to that effect to prevail with 
his party, — ^at the proper time he could undeceive them. 
Great things were also expected from the -^/i/i-League- 
agitation body, who were characterized as "good farmers, 
but bad pig-drivers; not having learned the necessity of 
persuading their pig that he is going one way while they 
are driving him another.** The activity of the landowners 
was held by a provoking logic to be another very favor- 
able indication of success to the free-trader. " While 
quiet, they were formidable, but now they have given an 
impetus to the other cause. If they are wise, however, 
they will have little to do in the way of reasoning; their 
best policy is to stick to the grand argument of the Duke 
of Buckingham, which may be summed up in these 
words: "I have always opposed any alteration in the 
Corn-laws, and always shall oppose it" 

As to what might be hoped from the influence of the 
Duke of Wellington in the House of Lords, our journalist 
likes it well enough in its probable bearing upon the 
great commercial questions at issue, but does not 
altogether approve of the extent to which it prevailed 
on some other questions. He has a somewhat amusing 
complaint on this subject, in which he states that 

" The advocates for the perfectibility of human nature 
are generally looked upon as a race of amiable enthusiasts 
— ingenious speculators, and full of fervid, generous 
aspirations; but still, visionaries. It seems, however, 
that in one instance, at least, their bright dreams are 
turned to reality, and that human reason is, in the case of 
one favored individual, freed from all infirmity. It is 


wonderful that even in one man we should behold so 
exalted a form of intellect, and not less wondeifiil that 
that one man should be his Grace of Wellington. Yet 
so it is. We can come to no other conclusion from what 
passes in the House of Lords. In that House the 
decision of the Duke of Wellington is beyond appeal. 
The collected wisdom of the Peers can go no further 
than this. Reason, as it exists among them, has done its 
best At this point, in steps the Duke of Wellington. 
He merely says that his opinion differs from that of their 
lordships, and instantly their lordships give up their 
opinion and act upon his. His ipse dixit is as the voice 
of destiny. All that had seemed clear to them becomes 
clouded; all that was dark turns bright He speaks, and 
a sudden illumination flashes ^upon every mind. He is 
consulted less as a man than as an oracle, — and sustains 
the latter character by brevity of speech, as well as by 
abstinence from argument There was, for instance, the 
case of the Welsh bishopric. It was proposed to unite 
the sees of Bangor and St Aspah. Earl Powis satisfied 
their lordships that he had reasonable grounds for opposing 
that union. They accordingly voted in favor of a motion 
for keeping the sees separate. On such an affair as this 
one might suppose their lordships would be allowed to 
take their own way. But not so. The Duke whispers in 
Earl Powis's ear, and the Earl whispers to their lordships, 
and the effect upon the whole is similar to that of 
Terence O'Sullivan's whisper to the wild horse — ^they are 
all tamed into sudden and perfect obedience to the Duke's 
will. The measure falls through, and is heard of no more. 
Then we had the Bishop of Exeter's bill for suppressing 
houses of ill-fame and punishing the open traders in vice. 
It went through the first and second reading. The 
Bishop, too, is a man not easily daunted, but even he 
quails before the iron Duke. On a hint dropped by his 


Grace, that it would be better to proceed no further, 
instantly a film fell from the Bishop's eyes. He discovered 
himself to be a wild enthusiast, and allowed his feelings 
to cool down to the Duke's level" 

"Whence this unquestioned supremacy of one indi- 
vidual in that assembly? The question is not very difficult 
of solution. The Duke finds that the Peers, spiritual and 
temporal are just the reedy, flexible sort of people that a 
strong wiD may bend to its purpose. They may have a 
hundred showy qualities which he has not, but they are 
all useless without that one which he has, — an indomitable 
enei^ of will. In the Upper House despotism is com- 
plete; but the Commons have made a considerable move 
in the same direction, though Sir Robert's subjects are 
more refractory than the Duke's, and tell him to his face 
that he is sinking them too deep in the mire. A few of 
the more fiery spirits have already bolted from the 
Ministerial ranks. Even Ferrand and Sibthorpe are 
wincing. But the Lords sit composed and thankful 
under all circumstances. With them, all wisdom centres 
in the Duke. Why do they not remain at home, instead 
of figuring as puppets in a mere legislative mimicry?" 

To a similar strain the gentlemen were treated who 
opposed the Ballot and other measures on the grounds of 
their being foreign to the genius of Englishmen. Of the 
Ballot indeed the writer had not formed a very exalted 
opinion as a true and unfailing remedy for the abuse of 
the franchise, but to its objectors on the score of its 
being un-English, it was replied : — 

''A fortnight ago we gave our readers a statement 
which scarcely ought to have appeared without remark. 
It related to the growth of some wheat at Brixton, the 
seed of which was found among the ancient sepulchres of 
Egypt, and whose original growth must have been con- 
temporary with the Pharaohs and the Ptolemies. The 


account states that the wheat has already assumed a 'very 
un-English appearance.' Hereupon we pondered. It 
appears to us that this is a matter of more serious import 
than might at first be thought; and that the attention of 
those of our countrymen who are opposed to popular 
reforms on the ground of their being un-English, should 
be drawn to the tircumstance. For if un-English wheat 
is once permitted to become the food of the people, it is 
impossible to say what revolutionary changes may be 
produced. The observer of physiological phenomena 
cannot fail to have remarked Uiat the latent properties 
of different kinds of food are developed in the habits and 
dispositions of the consumers. We have known a cele- 
brated divine who religiously abstained from pork lest it 
might taint him with the proverbial grossness of swinehood. 
Even the 'animal manna' of Elia's *pig child* .would not 
have tempted him to swallow the seductive abomination. 
Nor let this fear be thought unreasonable, for men of 
the highest genius have confessed to peculiarities of 
inspiration from various gustatory sources. * The paizis 
of sleep' and 'Kubla Khan' are understood to have been 
thrown off by a wild effort of Coleridge's imagination, 
induced in sleep by a supper of raw bacon. Thomscm is 
said to have composed his 'Seasons' over a bowl of punch, 
— a, fit type of the fiery passion and luxurious sensi- 
bility which distinguish the production. Indeed, it would 
be a curious speculation to trace the varieties of national 
character throughout the world in connexion with the 
influences which may be supposed to determine them as 
arising from peculiarity of food. The mere fact, howevCT, 
that such influences ^zr^observable, should be sufiicient to 
awaken our attention to the danger which may be incuned 
by any change in the public diet It is on this ground 
that we would especially invite the attention of the pro- 
corn-law men, the anti-ballot men^ the upholders of 


the church-rates, the opponents of free-trade, and other 
such meritorious classes, to this alarming business." 

" There is something in the brief account already pub- 
lished which must surely have excited alarm in Sir Robert 
Inglis. ' The appearance of the wheat' it says, *is most 
un-English.' Now it is entirely on this account that Sir 
Robert opposes the ballot Why not, for the same reason, 
oppose the introduction of this wheat? Ought not the 
un-English appearance of the plant to be regarded as a 
providential forewarning of the un-English qualities which 
may be induced by feeding upon it We think Parlia- 
ment should appoint a committee to inquire what were 
the prevailing modes of thinking among the ancient 
Egyptians who fed upon this kind of com. It may be 
possibly found that they were a people who favored a 
free commercial intercourse, and who were friends to 
cheap justice and an equality of civil rights, and who 
would not compel the worshippers in one temple to pro- 
vide sacrificial offerings and priestly vestments for canying 
on the devotions in another. And should these guesses 
prove to be correct, what madness will it be to admit into 
our country the com which nourished a people who enter- 
tained such erroneous views ! " 

In the latter part of 1844 some occurrences in Com- 
wall threw into the shade for a time all general politics. 
The parishioners of Helstone were alarmed by proceed- 
ings on the part of Mr. Blunt, the curate, which indicated 
a design to revive the obsolete portions of the Rubric. 
Great indignation was excited by seeing the reverend 
gentleman ascend the pulpit in his white surplice, and 
the news was spread through the parish and neighbourhood 
that popish innovations had commenced in the church. 
When remonstrance and expostulation had failed to make 
Mr. Blunt retrace his steps, the Bishop was appealed to, 
and his lordship in due time gave judgment on the ques- 


tion. Like another bishop, well known in the diocese of 
Oxford, the Bishop of Exeter praised Mr. Bluntfs conduct 
with faint condemnation — ^with those very slight and deli- 
cate censures which amounted to a virtual approbation of 
all that had been done. Nor was he long in shewing that 
at heart he was one with the curate, for as the parishioners 
had grounded their complaint on the fact that Mr. Blunt 
was departing from the general customs of the Church, 
the bishop determined that he would secure uniformity 
by the publication of an episcopal letter in which it was 
enjoined that the pulpit gown should be discontinued, and 
should be replaced by the surplice in every parish church 
in the diocese. But in this procedure his lordship had 
reckoned without his host Disaffection spread and resist- 
ance was manifested more or less through Cornwall and 
Devonshire. The liberal newspapers entered into the 
question and carried on the war with untiring vigour, while 
among the Bishop's most active opponents was the Rev. 
C. V. Le Grice, a retired clergyman, then residing near 
Penzance. To be opposed from such a quarter, and that, 
with weapons of no ordinary temper — ^the blended powers 
of a fine scholar, a learned churchman, and a keen con* 
troversialist — ^was trying in the extreme. In foct, the 
white feather was displayed much sooner than the malcon- 
tents had anticipated, another episcopal letter being 
speedily published through the diocese, absolving every 
clergyman from the obligation of wearing the surplice in 
the pulpit The following extracts from the IV, B., will 
shew the spirit with which these innovadons were regarded 
The argument was, that, whatever the Rubric might say 
in their favor, the true law of the Church was that wkach 
had been practically sanctioned by numy past generations. 
" Suppose some justice of the peace, whose loyal soul 
was fired with a passion for upholding the law in its strict 
integrity, were to busy himself in raking out every obsolete 


enactment from tlie statute-book for enforcement as oppor- 
tunities occurred One cannot imagine a more intolerable 
pest than such a man would become to the general com- 
munity. Now we maintain that the cases of the Church 
and State are in these respects analogous. The Church, 
like the State, has both its written and unwritten law. 
The force of custom and usage is as authoritative in one 
as in the other. The question between the parishioners 
of Helstone and their clergyman is not whether the alter- 
ations on which he has ventured are authorized by musty 
canons and forgotton statutes, but whether they are 
sanctioned by common sense and Christian feeling; not 
whether they might suit the times of Edward the Sixth, 
but whether they suit those of Queen Victoria. The 
complainants do not dispute the fact that certain mouldy 
precedents may be awakened from the sleep of ages in 
support of the curate's practices ; but, if those practices 
are ofifensive to good taste and manly sense, then they 
protest against them, though backed by the authority of 
the Savoy Conference, or the royal letters of George the 

'' In the concluding part of his judgment Dr. Fhillpotts 
bestows his Episcopal benediction on ourselves; an honor 
for which we do not perhaps feel the gratitude which we 
should, inasmuch as it is not expressed in very com- 
plimentary terms. He describes our journal as ' noto- 
rious for the violence of its hostility to the Church.' 
We do not call this a wanton slander, but think he must 
have been misled by erroneous information. Still, he has 
said what is untrue, and has gone out of his way to do 
so; though he will probably on cool reflection regret 
having been betrayed into such an error. We do not 
know whether the paragraphs the bishop devotes to Mr. 
Le Grice will ruffle that gentleman's equanimity, more 


than his notice of us disturbs ours. Yet we confess to 
some curiosity to see how he parries Hit prayer which the 
bishop puts up for him. Any ordinary posture of attack 
he would readily meet, but the solemn voice — the raised 
eyes — the uplifted palms ! — ^we fear this devotional atti- 
tude may be too much for him. There is a latent satire 
in Dr. Phillpotts's writings, which grows more pungent as 
the language increases in solemnity. His common style 
has much of this quality ; his expressions of pity cover 
severe inuendoes ; but his keenest cuts are in his prayers. 
Accordingly he prays for Mr. Le Grice 4n language which 
by implication pictures him as a sort of fallen spirit It 
may be well for the rev. gentleman that this rebuke of his 
diocesan has been uttered at a time when it will scarcely 
be heard amid the praises with which the whole county is 
ringing for his noble conduct in the memorable case tried 
at the last sessions." 

" A word to Mr. Blunt It is yet in his power to avail 
himself of the lessons of the past From the bishop's 
decision we hope nothing. It reminds us of the title of 
the last chapter in Rasselas, — ' The conclusion, in which 
nothing is concluded.' But Mr. Blunt may yet find in his 
own retummg good sense, and sobriety of zeal, the 
remedy which has elsewhere been sought in vain. Whe&er, 
however, he continue in his present, or remove to ano^er 
sphere of duty, let him remember that, in non-essentials^ 
to wound even the innocent prejudices, and much more 
the pious feelings of his flock, is one of the most grievous 
errors that a minister can commit The clerical pro- 
fession admits so little of the comic, that he is probably 
satisfied with the fiin which his proceedings have already 
occasioned; and we trust he is now prepared with graver 
feelings to devote himself to the more serious duties oi 
his office." 


"We beg to refer those of our readers who feel 
interested in the late proceedings at Helstone, to a 
letter from an esteemed correspondent, by which they 
will find that the Bishop of Exeter has erred very con- 
siderably in his exposition of the canon law. So that 
his judgment is as defective in legal merit as in gentle- 
manly and Christian feeling." 

"That this matter of the surplice has caused much 
agitation in Helstone and elsewhere is not to be won- 
dered at Abstractedly, it cannot matter much whether 
a minister preach in a black gown or a white one. But 
in connexion with the signs of the times, it is really 
become a very serious question. The parishioners regard 
the white gown as the badge of a party. The bishop may 
ridicule their fears of popery, but when they see that 
within a brief period a numerous party has sprung up 
within the church, which is avowedly anti-protestant — 
that from Oxford alone not less than five clergymen 
and nine laymen of that party have openly gone over 
to the church of Rome, we do not wonder at a suspicion 
of danger. This is more than a surplice question. The 
real question is, whether the service is to be a protestant 
or a semi-popish one. The surplice itself, like a flag 
of truce hoisted in a battle, is but a rag; yet each has 
a deep significance. Between the churches of England 
and Rome the white robe in the pulpit is what the flag 
is in a conflict, a sign that the party displaying it has lost 
confidence in its own strength, and is ready to surrender 
to the enemy." 

" So on Sunday next the popish banner is to be hoisted 
in every church within the diocese of Exeter ! The gown 
is to be discarded, and the white robe of Rome is to 
flourish in its place. On parting for ever with the vener- 
ated garb we may be peitnitted to linger for a moment 


on the associations connected with it It may be thought 
perhaps a foolish feeling, but we confess to some regret 
at the rending away of die vestment in which Jeremy 
Taylor poured forth his exuberant eloquence, in which 
Fuller kept his andienoe alternately in smiles and tears, 
in which Stillingfleet hurled his red^iot anathemas against 
the papacy, and in which Butler craned up the minds of 
his hearers to heights of diought which they never before 
had stood on ; the anay in which Barrow, and South, 
and Hooker, and Sherlock, and a host of other worthies 
always rise to the imagination. We cannot at once 
dismiss from our minds a feeling of veneradon for the 
common garb in which such men discharged the high 
dudes of their office; and whatever success may attend 
the introducdon of the new vestment, many generations 
must elapse before it will crowd the memory with the 
rich theory of associations which belcmg to the dishonored 

^But if this were all — ^if the intended change were 
merely in the feshion or the color of a garb — if Dr. 
Phillpott were exercising only a tailor-like taste in the 
matter, however frivolous the employment, no very 
serious consequences would result He might bring 
out a monthly feshion of clerical dresses and stand forth 
as a sort of man-milliner to the church. But this is 
not his aim. Henry of Exeter does not draw up 
elaborate judgments, and write long pastoral letters, 
and all this to decide whether the rev. Mr. So-andrso 
shall preach in a black gown or a white one. Yet 
this, he would have us believe, is all that he contem- 
plates. ' The use of the surplice in preaching,' he says, 
'is a matter so inconsiderable, that it could not, of 
itself, excite strong feeling in any reasonable man.' 
Then if the matter is so inconsiderable, why does he 
throw the whole diocese in a ferment about it? He 


admits that it is scarcely worth the notice of any rea- 
sonable man, and yet about a thing so unimportant he 
harasses the clergy, aggrieves the laity, and perils to 
a fearful extent the interests of the church. The laity 
are now placed upon their trial under circumstances 
which demand the exercise of stem unflinching princi- 
ple. Let them be firm, and a noble victory awaits 
them. But if they falter in their purpose; and submit 
passively to these Romanizing changes, then, we may 
still have a church of nominal worshippers, — ^filled with 
symbols, and ceremonies, and pantomimic rites; but 
the church of Barrow, and Hall, and Beveridge — the 
church in which our fathers worshipped, and in whose 
shadow their ashes repose — ^will have passed away for 
ever I " 

^* Meantime while we are occupied in detecting the 
lighter indications of popery, the authorities of Oxford 
are again called to deal with it in a more palpable form. 
A Mr. Ward, a clergyman of that University, has openly 
condemned the Reformation, in a work which he has 
published, entitled *The Ideal of a Christian Church,* 
in which he contends that the Church of England should 
avowedly and formally return into the bosom of the 
Church of Rome. This is plain-speaking. We only 
wish that all who are aiming by slow and stealthy measures 
at a similar result, would be equally candid in disclosing 
their intentions." 

The Bishop had written a letter to two churchwardens 
in reply to their remonstrance. He defended his pro- 
ceedings on two grounds: first, that the clergy are 
bound by their vows to observe the forms in the Book 
of Common Prayer; secondly, that their bishop is 
invested by his office with absolute authority over the 
discipline of the churches in his diocese. After sundry 
remarks on these points the writer proceeds — 


" But then, supposing the bishop to be wrong in his 
views, he says he is entitled to obedience on the score of 
his office. Thus meekly he addresses the laity of his 
diocese. ^By the law of the church and of the great Head 
of the churchy I have the rule over you. You are bounds 
therefore^ — you cannot without sin, refuse to obey me. You 
may think I am rcuh and injudicious. Be it so. Stilly if 
the word of God be true it is your duty to obey me while I 
keep within the law of the church. If those who are subjects 
of authority will obey it only according to their own notions 
of what is wise and prudent^ I am afraid that the ruler and 
the ruled must change places — in other words y that the rulers 
must obey, and those whom God has made subject to their 
rule will have to command,^ Well, this is plain speaking. 
There is no mistake now, we should think, as to the sort 
of person with whom the laity of Devon and Cornwall 
have to deal. The bishop is the Sir Anthony Absolute 
of the church. He seems scarcely to be aware that there 
are some assumptions in this apostolic address which 
people will not take for granted. Many things happen 
by divine permission which nevertheless are not of divine 
appointment; among which we may venture to redcon the 
elevation of Dr. Phillpotts to the rule of this diocese." 

" We maintain, then, that all rule must be exercised in 
a reasonable and Christian manner. Rule must not be 
despotism, though in all things essential to good order 
obedience is fairly demanded. The laity will also do 
well to consider that they themselves are part of the 
Church — a fact which the Bishop very conveniently 
ignores. But they must adopt no middle course; the 
Bishop is unbending, so must the laity be. We again 
say, let the people in every parish do their duty firmly 
and promptly, and the Jesuitical attempt of the Bishop of 
Exeter to trample on the rights of conscience and to crush 
religious liberty throughout his diocese, will be defeated" 


" %* We had scarcely thus concluded our brief article 
when a Devonport paper brought us the fulfilment of our 
closing prediction, in the shape of a letter addressed by 
the bishop to the clergy of this diocese, withdrawing his 
order to wear the surplice in the ptdpitP 

(Jan. loth, 1845.) "Although the revocation was 
anticipated, it took us rather by surprise. We had not 
expected it quite so soon. The bishop's tone had been 
growing firmer, his temper waxing warmer with every 
letter. He seemed filled with the pertinacious obstinacy 
of the Welshman, — * the more you tell me to do it, the 
more I won't' When he wrote to the churchwardens of 
St Sidwell's he was wrought up to that pitch of enthu- 
siasm that life itself appeared to be of no value without 
the surplice. He had begun to think of martyrdom. In 
answer to the request that he would withdraw his pastoral 
letter, he said that a sense of duty to God and his 
church forbade him to do so. And yet in a few days the 
state of things was so altered, that what was binding upon 
reason, and duty, and the sense of right, on the sixteenth 
day of the month had lost all its force on the twenty- 
third. On the sixteenth of December the bishop had 
resolved to give up his life rather than withdraw his letter. 
On the twenty-third he resolved to withdraw the letter and 
preserve his life. This alteration in his purpose, may 
probably be accounted for by the near approach of the 
Christmas holidays, — z, time in which life assumes one of 
its brightest aspects. Fancy an old gentleman pent up in 
his closet, groping among dusty canons and all sorts of 
ecclesiastical lumber, and worried to death by a lot of 
vulgar churchwardens, — and you can imagine that life 
under such circumstances might be thought lightly of. 
But when he emerges from this gloom into the festal 
gaiety of the season — expanding to the social spirit of the 
time — ^why, life begins to wear a more cheerful appearance 
and martyrdom becomes less attractive." 


''In his pastoral letter he stated that his reason for 
ordering the surplice was to establish ' uniformity.' He 
had no predOection for the surplice — gown or surplice was 
a matter of indifference to him — ^but for the sake of uni- 
formity, and that alone, he enjoined the general use of 
the latter. Now how is this profession borne out by his 
last letter ? If for the sake of uniformity all were ordered 
to wear it, surely for the sake of the same uniformi\y all 
should now cease to wear it But in countermanding his 
order the bishop sajrs — ^^ Wherever the surplice is now 
used without offence, there I hope it will be continued in 
use.' How does this agree with his statement, that he 
has no predilection for it ? How does it square with his 
professed desire to 'appease any diversity' in the church? 
So far from wishing to prevent a diversity^ he now seeks 
to establish one." 

" We now come to matters of graver interest While 
the surplice question was in agitation an impression was 
generally felt that the bishop was at heart inclined to 
favor the views of the Tractarians. We may venture to 
say that in Cornwall these fears occasioned all the 
remonstrances which were made against the pastoral 
letter. At first, the bishop treated such suspicions as 
absurd or even ridiculous. But how well they were 
justified, and what ample reason our firiends have to con- 
gratulate themselves on the stand which they made, is 
shewn by the following extract from a letter addressed by 
Dr. Phillpotts to Mr. March Phillips, and which was 
lately read at a meeting at Torquay. In any ordinary 
case we should not introduce into our columns a passage 
containing so many solemn allusions; but that there may 
be no misconception we quote the bishop's own words. 
In speaking of the Tractarians, he leaves us to judge to 
what extent he agrees with them, by stating the following 
as articles of his belief:" — 


* The necessity of the use of the sacraments to salva- 
tion ; die new binh given to us by God in baptism ; the 
actual communication of the body and blood of Christ 
(with all the inestimable benefits of his passion) to the 
soul of every ^ithfiil receiver of the Lord's Supper; the 
sinfulness of violating the unity of the church; the 
apostolic succession of its ministry; the want of any 
covenanted promise of salvation to those who have 
never been '' added to the church/' or have renounced 
its communion.' 

' We pause on copying this passage. — Among the 
great variety of sects which prevail in this country, there 
must of necessity be a corresponding gradation in the 
ability and intelligence of their ministers. But we are 
confident that if among the humblest of those sects a 
person were to offer himself as a public teacher, whose 
views of the doctrines of the 'gospel were not more 
correct than Dr. Phillpotts's, he would be r^ected as 
utterly unfit for the office. Between the most pernicious 
doctrines of the church of Rome, and the belief of the 
bishop of Exeter, there may be some slight distinctions ; 
but they are so slight, that were the episcopal chair now 
vacant and the candidates for its occupancy were Dr. 
Wiseman and Dr. Phillpotts, we should esteem it a matter 
of indifference, so Tar as the interests of Christianity are 
concemedi which of the two should be chosen. We 
believe there are thousands of Christianized heathens — 
men who a year or two ago were worshippers of rivers or 
animals — ^whose present views of religious truth are more 
in accordance with the teachings of the gospel than are 
those of the bishop of £xeter. If the articles of which 
the bishop professes his belief are true, then, of the scope 
and spirit of the New Testament, which we have r^ 
attentivdy, we know no more than we know of the 
Shasters or the Koran, which we have never read at 



all Right and wrong are become convertible tenns; 
and we have no perceptive power by which to distin- 
guish truth from falsehood We trust we have a proper 
aversion to the idolatrous practices of the church of 
Rome ; but there are some dogmas so frightful that many 
serious errors in practice merit less reprobation. We 
would rather become worshipp^s of the Virgin Mary 
than embrace the belief that the promise of salvation 
is limited to a single community. A taint of idolatry 
would be less desolating to the religious affections 
than the belief that of the final state of such men as 
Robert Hall, Adam Clarke, Richard Reynolds, and 
Andrew Thompson, we dare not speak — as the bishop 
elsewhere says — *even in the language of hope.' A 
sentence of eternal perdition on all Christian believers 
who do not conform to some particular creed or ritual 
is a thing so alien to the spirit of the gospel, that we speak 
with scrupulous precision of language when we say that 
no man arrives at so terrible a conclusion unUss he 
wishes it to bt trueP 

" We pen these remarks with shame and sorrow. Con- 
troversy on such dogmas is out of the question. If there 
is a man who believes the bishop to be right, we shall no 
more reason with him than widi a man who denied that 
light comes from the sun, or rain from the clouds. Our 
appeal is to the common sense and Christian principle of 
the attached members of the Church of England Believ- 
ing as we do that the great majority of them repudiate 
from their inmost souls the tenets which the bishop 
avows, we beseech them as they value our conunon 
faith, to signify their dissent by a formal protest They 
owe it to themselves, to their neighboiu^, and to the 
church, so to do. There surely cannot be wanting in 
the church men of thoughtful earnestness who will not 
passively submit to the imputation of an acquiescence 


in views which they cordially reprobate. Let them 
bestir themselves, and they will render an inestimable 
service to the Establishment, and to the cause of our 
common Christianity.*' 

Before this matter was concluded the Bishop deemed 
it necessary to address another pastoral epistle to the 
clergy and laity of his diocese, in which were recapitulated 
the proceedings of both parties during the period of the 
controversy. His lordship's object — ^as might naturally 
be expected — ^was to shew that in the whole affair he 
had been influenced by a pure desire to uphold sound 
order and discipline in the Church, although deference 
to higher authority, as well as to local prejudices, had 
induced him to retrace some of the steps he had taken. 
On this pastoral the journalist comments, under date of 
January 17 : — 

"Some poet, to whose name memory is unfaithful, 
sublimely sings, — 

' The King of France, with twenty thousand men. 
Marched up a hill, and then marched down again/— 

than which there could be no more appropriate motto to 
the chapter in which the ecclesiastical historian shall re- 
cord the late doings in this diocese. We insert elsewhere 
the Bishop's last ' pastoral.' His assmnption of authority 
has been waxing ' flne by degrees, and beautifully less,' 
and this epistle disposes of it altogether. All his orders 
are now withdrawn. The clergy are desired to make no 
attempt to come nearer to an exact observance of the 
Rubric For this happy conclusion we are indebted to 
the Archbishop of Canterbury, who appears to have 
become alarmed at the threatening aspect of affairs, and 
so placed his veto on the Bishop's proceedings. The 
letter in which the Bishop informs his clergy of the result 
is eminently characteristic He wishes to obtain credit 

244 MBMOm OF 

for great indq>endence of spirit, with a modest defer- 
ence to authority, — ^for unbending fidelity of principle, 
with the utmost latitude of forgiveness to all those who 
oppose him. Now these are qualities which are rarely 
found united at the same time in the same maa We 
must be allowed to pause, and ask whether the Bishop is 
really such a paragon as he represents himself. As to his 
readiness to make concessions for preserving the peace of 
his diocese, we should give him more credit for it, but for 
the fact that he has made no concession whatever until 
compelled by higher authority. The statement has not 
been contradicted, that his order for withdrawing the 
surplus was occasioned by a letter firom Sir Robert PeeL 
The last circular is, by his own avowal, consequent on an 
order fiK>m the Primate. Both these ' concessions' have 
been wrung firom him instead of being fireely made. To 
the People, whose loudly expressed opinion should have 
had more weight with him than even the Archbishop's 
authority, he has conceded nothing. So little is he in the 
yielding mood, that he clings to a phantom of power by 
putting imaginary cases, and threatening punishment if 
they should occur. He thinks it necessaiy to inform the 
deigy that he will shew no indulgence for * omitting or 
garbling portions of the offices of the Church, especially 
those of baptism and of burial ; although he admits that 
there is not a parish in the diocese in which these things 
are done. Then comes one of those inimitable jests 
which mark the Bishop's striking originality as a humcMist 
After the mischief he has made in the diocese, instead of 
appearing in the only character which becomes him, that 
<^ a penitent, he assumes that he is himself the injured 
party, and meekly offers forgiveness to those who have 
injured him. There is a serio-comic richness in this joke, 
to which no pen can do justice. It would have been a 
prize for a painter to have caught the expression of the 


l^hop's countenance whil^ penning this paragraph. And 
then, with what a fine touch of the troe Phillpottian 
charity does it wind up ! tie doubts that on reflection 
they will as readily forgive themselves as he forgives 
them ! He, the meekest of men, can forgive everybody ; 
but what he fears is that they have sinned so deeply that, 
on reflecting upon the wickedness of their ways, they will 
never be able to forgive themselves. For that peculiar 
quality called 'power of face,' we think this exceeds any- 
thing we have met with." 

''The Timesy while deprecating the Bishop's late at- 
tempts, professes to do homage to his ' eminent talents.' 
We are equally ready to acknowledge the existence of 
high intellectual endowments wherever we discover thenu 
But these are qualities which we cannot assign to any 
man upon credit Lord Brougham speaks of men who 
have great reputation upon tick; and the Bishop, it 
appears to us, is one of them. If his admirers will xder 
us to any one of his productions which bears the mark 
of a lofty intellect, we will readily admit the merits. But 
no such production has come under our notice, and we 
have an infidel-sort of feeling that it never will We take 
Dr. Phillpotts to be, in truth, but an ordinary man, who, 
by great pomp of manner, a profound self-importance, 
and the art of fireshening common-place thoughts by 
the solemnity with which he utters them, passes with 
unreflecting observers for a person of a high order of 
intellect We must therefore be excused fix>m blending 
our devotions with those of the Itmes. Our intellectual 
homage is reserved for true divinities. We cannot pay it 
to idols, which 'fall flat and shame their worshippers.' 
But 'honor to whom honor is due' is a gplden maxim, 
and in the Bishop's last letter there are gleams of genius 
to which it would be unjust to turn a sleepy eye. In stat- 
ing at the close that he feels no regret at his endeavours 


to enforce his late unpopular orders, he says — * The very 
vehemence with which the assertion of them has been 
resisted, proves if proof were necessary, the necessity 
of their being asserted.' The praise of genius cannot, 
we think. Be withheld from the writer of such a sen- 
tence as this. It is, in fact, a discovery. We know of 
nothing akin to it, except the few logical syllogisms 
which Wordsworth includes in the moral code of Rob 
Roy ; and had this great truth been announced in time 
the poet would probably have availed himself of it to 
give a finishing touch to the outlaw's creed. That 
*hero brave' could not have had a more convenient 
article of belief than that a demand is justifiable in 
proportion to the energy with which it is resisted ; 
which is what the Bishop lays down as an elementary 
truth. There is also a kind of genius, of which Dr. 
Fhillpotts has a large share, in involving one's real 
meaning in so many contradictions, even in the com- 
pass of a short letter, that at its close nobody shall 
know what the writer really intends, or whether its 
spirit is grave or burlesque. Thus, the Bishop tells us 
that, of the questions lately in discussion 'the subjects 
are, for the most part inconsiderate, (the last word, we 
presume, being meant in bold defiance of the lexico- 
graphers) yet, notwithstanding this, they must be settled, 
if the Chiurch of England is to continue unto us anjrthing 
better than an empty name !" We chanced, some time 
ago, to meet with a man who showed remarkable ingenuity 
in joining, in compact substances, mathematical figures of 
the most unlike forms. An artist who could exert a 
similar skill upon opposite premises, so as to bring them 
to a uniform conclusion, would be an invaluable assistant 
to the bishop. At present his statements keep up a run- 
ning fight throughout, and common-sense shrinks from the 
attempt to reconcile them. Now, however, that the 


obnoxioDs oiders are wfaoQy witfadiawn, we congratolate 
the Lai^ on the complete but peaceful victoiy they have 
achieved, — a result which they must fed to be a rich 
reward for the slight effort it has cost them." 

The Bishop had heartily forgiven aU offenders. But it 
needs no very labored argument to shew that what a man 
may forgive as ^ as his personal feelings are concerned, 
he may think it is duty to punish, as one bound to carry 
out the laws of the. Church. Accordingly in about three 
months after the issuing of the last-mentioned pastoral 
letter, he summoned to the Ecclesiastical Court Mr. Hill, 
one of the Helstone churchwardens. Mr. Hill being con- 
victed and fined, as having neglected his duty on a sacra- 
mental occasion, the proceedings formed the subject of 
another article : — 

''There is a story told of Moore, that when he had 
written the tragedy of the Gamester^ he read it to a friend 
and asked him whether he thought it possible to visit the 
hero of the piece with any severer punishment than he 
had awarded him. His firiend replied, that the only thing 
be could think of to increase his misery was to put him 
into the Ecclesiastical Court Truth, said Byron, is 
stranger than fiction; the dramas of real life are more 
wonderful than the stage. What a novelist would reject 
as too glaring an improbability, Mr. Hill, one of the 
churchii^udens at Helstone, finds realized in his own per- 
sonal experience. When the correspondence took place 
between this gentleman and the Bishop of Exeter, which 
was afterwards published in that unlucky 'judgment' of the 
bishop's, his lordship reminded him that his proceedings 
had probably made him amenable to the Ecclesiastical 
Court, although he intimated that it was not his intention 
to take such an advantage of him. It struck us at the 
time that there was something ominous in this. It shewed 
how familiar this Court was to the bishop's thoughts. 

24^ MMMOm OF 

Howev^ carelessly he might seem to twirl such on histru- 
ment between his fingers, it was an ugly plaything at the 
best We fancy Mr. Hill must have felt at the menticm 
of it somewhat as a victim of the Holy Office would have 
felt if while standing before the inquisitor-general, he saw 
his reverence playing with a thumb-screw. ^ Don't be 
2fy^y my good man, I merely shew you this as a curiosi- 
ity ; I am not going to use it' In spite of these bland 
assurances, he would rather the thing was out of the way." 
^'A few months have gone by since our Holy Father 
made this delicate intimation, and these few months have 
placed Mr. Hill in the Ecclesiastical Court The screw 
has been put on. There are people who have a lively 
curiosity for tales of misery, modes of oppression and 
torture, instruments of cruelty, and so forth. Our tastes 
not having led us into that line, we are unable to say 
whether the Consistory Court is what is commonly called 
the Ecclesiastical Court, or whether it is a refinement upon 
the latter, beaiing.the same relation to it which a jet-black 
bears to a blue-black. We never knew that there was 
an)rthing worse than the Ecclesiastical Court. We could 
never divine why it was, that when the ^StBr-chamber, the 
pillory, and the rack, had been abolished, this antique 
barbarity was allowed to remain the standing wonder of 
the age. If there is any one of our existing institutions 
which beyond all others is offensive to the moral sense of 
the country — ^loathed and detested by every man of sound 
mind and generous feeling^^-we should suppose it to be 
the Ecclesiastical Court It is honorable to our humble 
countrymen, that in the rules of benefit-societies, by which 
persons of infamous occupation are debarred fh>m mem^ 
bership, the proscription extends to those who may act as 
process-servers for this Court But whether the Ecdesi* 
astical and Cons^torial Courts are but the same thing 
under different names, or whether the church courts open 


before us like the chambeis of the temple in the prophet's 
vision, disclosing deeper and darker abominations as we 
proceed, it was before the Consistory Court of Exeter 
that on Friday, the 4th of April, in the year of grace 
1845, Mr. Frederick Hill, of Helstone, was convicted, 
on his own admission, of a crime which must make men's 
ears tingle with horror as they hear it named, — ^viz., that 
on the first day of January last passed, he omitted to 
place with his own hands upon the sacramental table in 
the church at Helstone, the communion plate belonging 
to the said chturch, whereby one Reverend Walter Blunt, 
with some five or six ancient ladies, who fonn the congre* 
gation of the said Walter, were deprived of the benefit of 
the holy sacrament, they having partaken of the sacred 
elements but four times during the preceding eight days. 
It had been charged against Mr. Hill that he detained 
the plate when applied for in the regular course ; but this 
charge failed. What we have above stated is the head 
and firont of his offending. He stands exempted by the 
Chancellor himself from any moral culpability whatever \ 
but having unconsciously foiled to comply with the exact 
letter of the canon law, he has been convicted and pun^- 
ished with heavy costs. One naturally asks, who in the 
shape of a man, could have instituted such a prosecution? 
No one has daied to come forth openly as ^e informer. 
Vague sights and sounds present themselves to the fimcy,*-*- 
one, a spirit walking in darkness, wearing 

' on what seems his head, 
Thib likeness of a mitre ; '-^ 

another, 'a voice crying in the wilderness,' awakening 
the sepulchral echoes of a deserted church* But what 
can we make of these things? To whom can these 
shadowy types have reference ? What aid do they give 
us in penetrating the mystery of iniquity ? If the arch* 


fiend himself were to set up a court which, parodying the 
forms of justice, should to the greatest possible extent 
violate its spirit, we fancy that the constitution which Ais 
lordship would fi:ame, would be pretty much as follows — 
viz., that technical errors should be punishable as moral 
guilt, — that no man should know his accuser, — nor be 
present at the pleading of his own advocate. How far 
the personage of whom we have spoken would find him- 
self relieved in the task of forming such a tribunal by the 
model fiunished to his hand by the existing ecclesiastical 
courts of this country, we leave to the curious in com- 
parisons to determine." 

And so the Helstone affair, for the time, terminated ; 
but the Bishop was not quite done with. Some twelve- 
months after these occurrences his lordship stated in Par- 
liament his deep conviction that the crying want of the 
country was an enlargement of the episcopate, — there 
were not bishops enough. The hint was not thrown away 
on the IV^ssf Briton^ which responded in the following 
terms : — 

"What is the greatest good, within the province of 
human wisdom to derive, for improving the condition of 
our country ? This question is often asked — but a wise 
man will pause, and think much before he answer it Yet 
it should be answered. From its very nature it ranks first 
among all questions that present themselves to the social 
economist Some years ago a philosophical society offered 
five pounds for the discovery, but we think that to be a 
very inadequate compensation. It is only to a man of 
expansive mtellect and ardent feeling — ^at once a philan- 
thropist and a statesman — ^that such an inquiry can be 
properly addressed. We rejoice that there are such men, — 
men who at the same time think and feel profoundly; 
and whose reward is the sublime consciousness of attain- 
ing to views of transparent clearness on subjects of the 

TffaM/tS GARLAND. 251 

greatest practical importance. Such a man is Henry, 
Lord Bishop of Exeter. He has been applying his acute 
and comprehensive mind to this inquiry. In silence and 
solitude the mitred hermit of Bishopstowe has been feeling 
his way step by step to the result to which he has at length 
arrived. And now that he has discovered the difficult 
truth he has disclosed it for the general good. On Friday 
last, his lordship announced in the House of Lords that 
* the most cr3dng want of this country is — ^more bishops !' 
How happy must be the condition of a people with whom 
this is the greatest want ! How abundandy blest must be 
the land in which they dwell ! The imagination can 
scarcely picture to itself a state in which nothing is want- 
ing but more bishops to complete the general happiness. 
In such a case, mere physical wants there can be none, — 
moral wants next to none. Such a country must * laugh 
with abundance.' No poverty can be there. No disease 
can be there. The wealth of all climes flows into it 
It is filled with the riches of the earth and of the sea. 
Only fancy the capacity of himian enjoyment filled up to 
the point at which men begin to cry out for more bishops ! 
But we must confess our blindness. In running over the 
catalogue of social wants there are many things which we 
should look on as of greater importance. A steam-plough, 
a good dibbling-madiine, a safety-drag for locomotives, 
an effectual smoke destroyer, a self^cting pump— these, 
and a hundred such things would have entered our mind 
before we thought of more bishops. Indeed, we are 
ashamed to avow that what his lordship of Exeter thinks 
to be the first want of this country we think to be about 
the last On this score, we are quite content with what 
we have; to wish for more would be an inordinate desire." 
'' Before the people asked for an increase in the number 
of bishops, we think they would like to get some clear 
information as to the good they derive fi^om those f 


already have. But perhaps we are hardly qualified, in this 
particular diocese, to form correct notions of the popular 
demand for bishops. Our conviction is that here we have 
been somewhat ^z^^-bishoped. For the last two or three 
years at least, the episcopal crook has grappled us too 
often. We have been stirred up with too long a pole. 
We sigh for repose. If there is any part of the country 
where the want of a bishop is strongly felt, we shall be 
most happy to meet that want by parting with our own, 
and will not be particular about the terms." 



While the ecclesiastical distarbances just spoken of had 
been passing in a remote comer of the land, the great 
commercial question of a free trade in corn was gathering 
daily strength and importance throughout the country. 
Not long after the. opening of the Parliament in 1845, Mr. 
Cobden came foitii as a moderator l^tween the parties 
ranged on the different sides of thisquestion, and pro- 
posed a Committee for inquiring into the whole subject 
Whatever rival , ibeoriste might lay, it was sufficiently 
notorious that agriculture was at -that time in. a very low 
and distressed condition. The tillers of the soil main- 
tained that their prospects were ruining through the 
ambiguous and vacillating policy of Sir Robert Peel, who 
was understood to have taken office as the pledged sup- 
porter of Protection, and had yet given immistakeable 
indications that the sliding-scale was no longer the object 
of his idolatry. Sir Robert denied that he had taken his 
place at the head of affairs under any such obligation 
expressed or implied; and without formally announcing 
any change of opinion in relation to the Corn-laws, held 
himsdf at liberty to follow any one of those "three 
courses" which all questions opened up to him, just as 
circumstances might, in his opinion, demand. 

The view which our journalist took of this matter, was 
that the Ministry had greatly erred in refusing their assent 
to Mr. Cobden's proposal; that there was no colorable 
reason for objecting to it; that no possible method could 
be conceived as more likely to suggest a beneficial course 
of legblation for the future than a full and impartial in- 
vestigation of facts; and that although Mr. Cobden's 


personal opinions on the Corn-laws were no secret, yet 

his proposal to place a majority of Protectionists on the 

Committee was evidence conclusive that he designed no 

undue advantage to the free-traders. . 

Nothing, however, was effected during the session, and 
at the close of the year Sir Robert Peel's Ministry was 
broken up. Lord John Russell, whose fixed duty had 
also vanished, and who had declared himself on the side 
of Abolition, was called to the Premiership. His path 
was hedged about with difficulties of all kinds. The 
anti-com-law meetings were, however, becoming more 
numerous and powerful, while the protectionists had also 
some gatherings of their own, on wi^iich occasions they 
used some very plain English in dealing with the late 

"Against Sir Robert Peel," says the writer, "their 
wrath is inveterate. They uniformly describe him as a 
traitor to the landed interest They never contemplated 
his position as the first minister of a great and free 
country, bound by the nature of his office to respect all 
interests alike. No; he was merely thdr man — the man 
of Richmond, Buckingham, &c. He was to occupy the 
first seat on the Treasury Bench only as the representative 
of red and white wheats ! an incarnation of rye, and oats, 
and straw. Dignified position! What man with one 
spark of honorable feeling in his soul, but would spurn an 
office held on such a tenure ? " 

Lord John Russell's attempt to construct a government 
was ineffectual, and Sir Robert resumed office. In its new 
year's address for 1846, the West Briton congratulates its 
readers on the certainty that, under such circumstances, 
the speedy destruction of the Corn-laws was inevitable. 
Under date of January 30, we have a long article expres- 
sing the highest satisfaction with Sir Robert's speech on 
the opening of Parliament. Other speeches of his had 


been greater in point of oratory, but none so creditable 
to his judgment and candor. He had a great deal to say, 
and a great deal to unsay, but he had at length cast ofif 
all disguise and boldly proclaimed the change in his 
opinions. Henceforth Protection had nothing to hope 
for at his hands. He had been a great master of sophistry, 
but now disdained to use it He was become plain, 
earnest, straightforward; and his speeches instead of 
resembling the galleries in Udolpho's castle, where 
mysterious panels suddenly caused the human figure to 
disappear from the eye, had an intelligible and consistent 
direction throughout It was now the glory of Sir Robert 
to oppose common-sense to cant, to set Bacon against 
Machiavel, to drag forth the Corn-law from the region of 
mysticism into the clear light of sober truth; and his 
stem refusal to hold office as the organ of the Protec* 
tionists was another grand feature of a once dubious 
but now highly promising character. 

In a subsequent article the writer enters into an 
elaborate vindication of Sir Robert against the charge of 
inconsistency. To this topic reference has been already 
made, and it is sufficient to observe that the gist of the 
argument lies in shewing that all true consistency is that 
of following up the convictions of truth, at whatever 
sacrifice of former opinions or prejudices. The next 
subject for consideration was the probable conduct of the 
Lords. Would they adhere to the old r^mef or would 
they make discretion the better part of valour, and give 
way? "They will," says the IV, B., "gradually give 
way; there may be a few fiery, curry-eating Dukes, to 
bluster a little, but that will be all. The brains of the 
agricultural party were sucked dry during the long and 
dull debates in the Commons.'' 

Ere the session concluded, the Ministerial measure for 
the free importation of com within a brief period was 

356 MSMOin OF 

carried through bodi Houses of Parliament, and the 
journalist winds up his labors with the following remarks 
on the singular circumstances attending this great change 
in our fiscal code: — 

''It is singular that the Corn-laws should have been 
repealed by a Parliament elected especially to support 
them. That these Corn-laws could live — ^that their rank 
injustice could have an essential vitality, and so go on in 
interminable perplexity^-^is what few people above the 
level of the Duke of Richmond and CoL Sibthorpe 
could believe. But the man would have been thought 
mad who would have ventured to predict at the last 
election that the Corn-laws would be extinguished by fAai 
Parliament It was the Landlords' Own. What a blaze of 
virtuous indignation shot forth firom the acrearchy ! How 
it flamed from hustings to hustings! and ran, like the 
Greek signal fires, through the land! What eloquence 
from Ups which had never been known before to utter 
common-sense 1 The tenant-voters — ^how they caught the 
kindling inspiration ! And that respectable quadruped the 
British Lion — how he did roar 1 In the counties, honor, 
ability, intelligence, all went for nothing. There was but 
one test for every candidate — eternal fidelity to the Com- 
laws, sworn upon the sliding-scale. Without this qualifi- 
cation an angel might have sued in vain; with it, the 
rawest material of humanity was fit for St Stephens. 
Men who had been known only as bores of the first 
magnitude at a petty sessions, or a board of guardians, 
suddenly assumed the most owl-like aspects as legislators 
of the realm. The benches of the House of Commons 
were crammed with them. They met under a leader 
keen, expert, and boundlessly self-confident, fiill of clever 
shifis when his party was low, and now proud beyond 
measure of his numerical strength. As their constituents 
had elected them solely that they might support &e Com- 


laws, SO they supported him for the self-same purpose. 
Against such a party and soch a leader it seemed folly to 
speculate upon a chance of successful opposition. Yet 
it was by this leader and by this Parliament that the 
Corn-laws received their death-blow. You have some- 
times seen a group of children playing on the sea-shore, 
writing on the sand, forming houses of slate, and laying 
out mimic fields with rows of pebbles, and so forth, when 
lip runs one surging wave over the beach and in an 
instant the whole disappears. Just so were all the Pro- 
tectionist fences laid low by one insurrectionary swell of 
public feeling. The last session has taught the people of 
England a memorable lesson. It has taught them that 
no minister, however palmy his position ; no party, how- 
ever strong in numbers, can resist the matured convictions 
of the public mind." 

Of the .other subjects which about this period came 
under discussion, we may first notice the Bill for the 
increased and perpetual endowment of the Maynooth 
College. The subjoined article is under date of April 4, 

1845 :— 
'^ Sir R. Peel is to propose this evening in the House 

of Commons a national grant of ^28,000 a year to the 
Roman Catholic College at Maynooth, instead of the 
annual payment of ^8,000 which is now made to that 
institution. Suppose the Wesleyans had applied to Par- 
liament for an annual grant to their institution at Richmond, 
or the Baptists for the Hoxton academy, or the Indepen- 
dents for their college at Manchester, — ^how would the 
application have been met? Unquestionably with a 
prompt and unequivocal refiisal. Yet either of those 
bodies would come before Parliamait with a stronger 
moral claim than can be made by the Catholics. They 
are scriptural in their doctrines, powerful in the influence 
they exert throughout the kingdom, and are as essentially 


protestant as the Church of England was in her best days, 
and much more so than, unhappily, she now is. Their 
bitterest enemies cannot upbraid them with disaffection to 
the government, or a desire to foment disturbances in the 
State. Why, dien, should they be regarded with less 
£aivor than the Catholics? The reason may be found in 
a truth which has often been repeated, that the antipathies 
between religious bodies are strong in proportion to the 
assimilation of their opinions. The Premier and his 
colleagues, as members of the Church of England, would 
refuse to endow colleges for sects whose tenets are 
scarcely distinguishable from their own; but Catholicism, 
being so hostile to their own creed, is taken into &vor. 
If Mohammedans and Pagans were to migrate hither, 
they would be still more amply provided for. Muftis and 
Brahmins would be placed at the head of collegiate 
establishments, and mosques and pagods would be pro- 
vided ad libiiumy 

" But this is not the only ground on which the grant is 
proposed. It is felt that the Catholics of Ireland are 
unjustly treated by the appropriation of the ecclesiastical 
revenues to the Established Church in that coimtry. 
Admitting this to be the case, we ask, who should make 
reparation but those who have done the wrong? If the 
Irish Church has unjustly taken to itself revenues which 
should have been employed for the benefit of the 
Catholics, then let that Church make restitution. But, 
in the name of common sense, why should the people oi 
England be taxed for the sake of Popery in Ireland? 
That the Irish Catholics have been unjustly dealt with, 
we have no doubt whatever. We must lose all sense of 
the distinction between right and wrong before we can 
acquit the Irish Church of an iniquitous usurpation of 
the rights of the community. In saying this, we do 
not lose sight of the common arguments by which that 


Church is defended It is said that as the established 
Church is the national religion, the Catholics in Ireland 
stand in precisely the same relation to it as the Dissenters 
in England — that Ireland is as much an integral part of 
Britain as Yorkshire or Cornwall is — ^and that consequently 
the people of Ireland have no more reason to complain 
of it than a dissenting body would have in any district of 
Yorkshire or Cornwall" 

'' But in the first place we deny that the Established 
Church is a national Church. Our denial of this rests 
on the authority of sundry accredited geographies, in 
which the United Kingdom is spoken of as consisting 
of three parts, England, Ireland, Scotland. In the 
latter of these the Church of England is not established 
at all, but exists only as a diminutive sect. In Ireland 
it is established by law, and by law only. In England 
alone has it struck its roots into the affections of the 
people, and obtained the support of a considerable por- 
tion of the community. It is a palpable dishonesty to 
attempt to place the Catholics of Ireland in the same 
position with reference to the Church, as the dissenters 
in England. We cannot say with precision whether the 
various classes of dissenters in this country, when taken 
together, exceed the Church in numbers or not; but we 
are certain that neither of the dissenting bodies singly 
can do so. Now, if the principle of a state establishment 
be a valid one, it must follow that the uppermost 
religion be that of a majority, and in this respect we have 
nothing to complain against the ascendancy of the Church. 
So far as numbers are concerned, it is fairly established. 
But in Ireland the case is the reverse of this. There 
are more than ten Catholics to one of the Establishment 
The Church has no hold on the regards of the people. By 
a vast majority it is spumed and detested. They are not 
merged in the mass of a church-going community, as are 


the dissenters in England. They are separated from this 
country by a national garb, and manners, and customs, — 
by a separate history — a different religion, and a sea 
rolling between us. What other marks are necessary to 
denote a distinct nationality? The established Churdi 
in Ireland has never been more than an experiment, and 
that experiment has wofully failed. Ireland has been 
left to a Church which, when it had grasped the revenues 
of the country, looked on the reformation as accomplished 
Bishops famous for political jobbing, rich pluralists spend- 
ing their tithes at Bath or Brighton, a university remark- 
able for its intolerant spirit, — these were the chosen 
instruments for working out a reformation in Ireland. 
Yet for the delinquencies of such a Church the people of 
England are now to be taxed. We say nothing of the 
tax being for the support of popery, for on the ground of 
abstract justice we hold it a matter of indifference whether 
the money be given to the protestant or catholic church. 
The proposal, in either case, is a foul insult to this 

In a subsequent article on the 25th of the same month, 
the remarks are mainly addressed to the defence of the 
Maynooth measure by Mr. Macaulay: — 

"The best speech in its defence was that of Mr. 
Macaulay. He touches no subject that he does not 
adorn. However rambling and foggy may be the course 
of a debate, the instant he strikes in there is a flash of 
light His genius broods over the chaos and charms it 
into life and order. Or, if all seemed clear before, it 
then becomes more vividly so, — ' another mom risen on 
mid-noon.' Without any parade of logical forms — ^that 
fatal mark of mediocrity — ^the complexities of the subject 
pass, at his touch, into consecutive arrangement His 
memory, it is said, retains everything. No man displays 
such inexhaustible fertility of illustration. Of his extra- 


ordinary eloquence every one ^miliar with his sparkling 
e8sa3rs must be fully aware. These great powers he 
brought to bear in favor of the Maynooth Bill.'' 

The member for Edinburgh had, however, employed 
on this occasion a species of logic, to which men of less 
powers took the liberty to demur. " Where the grant is 
to come from," he said, '' remains for after discussion; 
the question now is, whether it shall be made, or not" 
To which our authority replies : — 

" A man passing on the road is robbed of his purse. 
He raises an alarm. Some people going by propose to 
lay hold on the thief, who is seen standing on the other 
side of the way, and take the money from hinL ' Not 
so,' says another, ' I see he is a very respectable-looking 
man, and I don't like to touch him. But this poor 
fellow must have his money somewhere. Where it is to 
come from, remains for an after discussion; the question now 
iSj whether he shall have it or not. So we'll just dip into 
the pockets of the first few people who go by, to give the 
man his money, and everything else can be made right 
afterwards.' Such is the logic and the morality of the 
Right Honorable Thomas Babington Macaulay, sanc- 
tioned by three hundred and twenty others of the 
enlightened men of this generation." 

On the passing of the Bill, we are treated to some 
observations on tlie unreasonableness of those who mur- 
mured at the want of transparency in Sir Robert Peel's 
character. It has been seen that the minister's speech 
preparatory ta his doing away with the Corn-laws had 
gone far to fix himself in the good graces of the writer 
who had so sharply animadverted on his trickeries. The 
past however was not forgotten : — 

"We have no sympathy whatever with those who 
complain that they have been deceived by Sir Robert 
Peel It is their own fault They are wilfully blind to 


the whole character of his public life, and morally blind 
to the events that are passing around them in the wbrid. 
Even when they become conscious of the deception 
practised on them, they have not the spirit to resent it. 
They bluster a little, and then snivel, and prepare them- 
selves for some other deception. We can well imagine 
the awful outcry that would have been raised if the Whig 
mbistry had attempted to propose the tenth part of the 
present concession to Maynooth; how every parson in 
the land would have been roaming about — the sword in 
one hand, the torch in the other — ^proclaiming the ven- 
geance of heaven and earth on the perpetrators of such 
an iniquitous deed; branding them as infidels, denouncing 
them as the destroyers of Protestantism. But now, 
although they do grumble, it is with bated breath, and 
we have no doubt that at the next election we shall see 
them again flocking to the poll to support Sir Robert 
Peel. Sir Robert is a bold man, but he knows the tribe 
he has to deal with; and whether on religious questions 
or agricultural questions, he deals with them according to 
the expediency of the moment, without the slightest 
regard to their opinions or their prejudices — and with as 
little regard to his own character." 

As to the general question itself, we are told: — "The 
government proposal for the Maynooth grant has had the 
sanction of the House by a majority of 2 r 6 against 114. Sir 
Robert Peel made out the best case that the merits of the 
affair admitted. He stated that after a good deal of con- 
sideration he had come to the conclusion that there areonly 
three courses open to us, — i, to continue the existing 
grant, or — 2ndly, to abolish it, or — 3rdly, to increase it 
We must pause a moment to pay a tribute of eulogium to 
the amazing intellectual power by which he succeeded in 
simplifying so complicated a case. What an agony of 
mental effort must he have undergone in working his way 


to such results as these, truths which seem to lie at the 
veiy termini of the mind, beyond which there is nothing 
to be discovered. Of the three conditions, however, we 
frankly confess that the second is the one which we should 
support ; and as we are here at issue with the Premier 
and his hydra-headed party, it is but fair to notice the 
grounds on which the measure is defended. Sir Robert 
says that it is a fallacy to urge that by the increased grant 
we are endowing popery ; because the principle of the 
endowment is as entirely conceded by the existing allow- 
ance as by the larger one. This is a fair argument ; but 
we take our stand on higher grounds. Whether Maynooth 
be a popish or protestant college, we should oppose 
the grant as a question between the people of England 
and the people of Ireland. We deny that the govern- 
ment has any moral right to tax the former for providing 
rdigious establishments for the latter. And although this 
objection would apply to any form of religion, it must be 
admitted that in the present case the wrong is aggravated 
by the compulsory support being profferred to a hostile 
faith. To say that we aught to support Maynooth because 
we have done so, is simply to say that custom changes 
wrong into right, and that to retract an error is less com- 
mendable than to persist in it There is, however, a light 
in which this question may be fairly viewed, which tends 
to abate the fervor of those who oppose the grant merely 
because it supports Catholicism. We doubt if, in truth, 
it should not rather be regarded as a bonus to the 
Established Church in Ireland. It is impossible for any 
attentive observer of the progress of opinion among the 
Irish to be blind to the fact that the props of that church 
are gradually slipping from under it As a church, it Ntnndfi 
convicted of eminent unfaithfrilness. The moral condition 
of Ireland would probably be much better had it never 
existed. The catholics cannot much longer be permitted 


to remain in their present state of destitution, and it is 
much easier to dip at once into the public treasury than 
to make a new allotment of the income of the Irish 
Church. So it is thought best to quiet the Catholics by 
laying the pockets of the people of England under con- 
tribution for their necessities." 

" There is one slight consolation for our fiiends who 
oppose this grant merely from antipathy to popery, — ^that 
it is given to a party which candidly and openly avows 
the supremacy of Rome, and its hostility to the reformed 
faith. Let us have honest enemies rather than ^Jse 
friends, — the open broadsides of Maynooth rather than 
the masked batteries of Oxford In the present condition 
of the two we should much more readily give our money 
to the former, inasmuch as it is our sincere belief &at 
Christianity has less to fear from it than from the latter. 
Thousands of our readers would be startled if the doc- 
trinal corruptions of Oxford were fully exposed to them ; 
and we may remark that the time is come when we must 
freshly gild and burnish the motto of Chillingworth^ — 
' The Bible, and the Bible alone, is the religion of 
protestants.' " 

With Irish affairs we may not unnaturally associate a 
gentleman whose merits have already received a passiog 
notice, — ^Daniel O'Connell, Liberator, Hero of Condlisr 
tion Hall, &&, &c. The State Trial in Dublin has just 
terminated, and 

"A tempting scope for speculation is now open to 
political calculators in conjecturing the probable &te of 
O'Connell. The Government press will not be satis6ed 
unless he is clapped into prison. The ministerial scribes 
habitually picture him now, in their imagination, in the 
clutches of some Irish Mac Guffey, and grinning thxou^ 
stout iron bars. For ourselves we rather think that 
nothing more will be done than to bind him over to good 


behaviour, for a pretty long period, under heavy penalties. 
The reason why we ^ink this is all that Government will 
do, is, because we think it all that they aught to do. For 
what one imaginable benefit can result firom (yConnell's 
incarceration? It b said to be necessary for satisfying 
the claims of justice. ' This we more than doubt What 
is justice, in the popular acceptation of the tenn ? Does 
it imply anything more than the moral convictions of the 
commimity? Are not these convictions, as £ur as the 
Irish are concerned, rather in &vor of (yConnell than 
against him? What satis&ctioa, then, does 'justice' 
require. But it may be thought expedient to deal severely 
with him to deter others. We have never been able to 
penetrate the profound reasons by which proceedings of 
this kmd are justified. £speci2i illumination on this 
point appears to be occasionally vouchsafed to the 
Bench at Quarter-Sessiims ; but we confess ourselves 
blind to the equity of the principle by which there is 
inflicted upon any man a punishment disproportionate to 
his offence, merely to make him a warning to others. 
Moreover, while his imprisonment would do no good, it 
might do much evil by giving him a new claim upon the 
sympathies ef his countrymen, who would at once confix 
upon him the honers of martyrdom; and we can ccH^ceive 
of nothing which, more than ^is, would completely defeat 
the purposes which Government have in view." 

About eighteen months later we have an exposd of 
(yConnell's genuine patriotism, as brought to light by the 
TUme^ Commissioner : — 

^' We have met with a story somewhere of a man who 
advised a charitable subscription for a distressed person, 
and when applied to himself in aid of it, excused his own 
pocket on the plea that it was very well for himself to have 
given the hint, Mr. CVConnell's sympathy for the Irish 
'pisantry' seems to be of this vicarious order. A sut>- 


scription of some ^8000 was made the other day for the 
relief of the destitute poor in his own district ; but in the 
list of donors the name of the Liberator does not appear. 
He might at least have given Raphael's money on such an 
occasion. But although his name did not grace this list no 
conclusive evidence could tiius be drawn against his feeling 
a deep sympathy with his distressed countrymen. It might 
have been that the tenantry on his own property were so 
well protected by him from the evils which surrounded 
them, that nothing more could fairly be expected at his 
hands. He is something of a landed proprietor, and could 
if he chose make his tenants the models of what the Irish 
poor ought to be. To hear him declaiming about their 
miseries and making uproarious professions of zeal in their 
behalf, we should naturally picture to ourselves the deni- 
zens of his own soil as located in an earthly paradise. 
•What a happy people,' one would say, * must they be, 
who live under the direct protection of a man so rich and 
overflowing with the kindliest charity ! How green a spot 
in the desert must be this Derrynane ! How calm and 
bright the atmosphere of peace and comfort that surrounds 
it 1 ' But it so happens that a provoking sort of personage 
called the Times commissioner, has in the course of his 
travels visited that spot and given an account of what he 
saw of the real condition of the people who live in that 
Hibernian Elysium. Now the statements of the Hme^ 
commissioner Mr. O'Connell must meet They must be 
proved either to be palpably false or infamously trae. 
Abuse may be met by counter abuse, one fiction may 
destroy another, but facts can only be met by facts, and 
people will not be satisfied without knowing the real con- 
dition of O'Connell's own tenantry. He may contrive fix 
a time to keep up a sort of bullying feme in Ireland, but in 
England he must wipe off this terrible blot, or sink at 
once and for ever. — Meanwhile the Rent goes on. Twenty 


thousand pounds — collected fortunately for him just 
before the Times report can\e out — is the reward of his 
unpurchaseable virtue during the past year. Twenty 
thousand pounds is the sum which, with famine staring 
them in the face, he takes from the wretched peasantry 
of Ireland for one year's performances on the boards of 
Conciliation Hall. The greatest part of this money 
will be found wanting in a supply of bread and potatoes 
for the starving people in tiie coming winter. It is 
almost a fiction to calculate the rent in money value. 
It is so many thousands of loaves and bushels of 
potatoes withdrawn from the famishing population, be- 
yond the deficiency caused by the bad season. The 
plagues of Ireland stand thus in processional order, — 
want of employment — aghirian outrage — failure of 
crops — &mine —disease — CConnell." 

And finally, on the winding up of affairs at Conciliation 
Hall, there is a pleasant tribute to the disinterested con- 
duct of the Liberator in his thrifty management of the 
Repeal exchequer. After stating that much doubt had 
always existed as to whether CyConnell had really been 
in earnest about carrying Repeal, and that Young Ireland 
was getting very much disgusted with the conduct of a 
leader who seemed more intent on securing a good living 
for himself than efifecting the freedom of his country, the 
question of finances is touched upon : — 

*' But the dissentients have another charge against him. 
They say that some ^200,000 or upwards — ^a pretty round 
sum, truly^— subscribed to the Repeal Fund, and of which 
CKConnell constituted himself the treasurer, has disap- 
peared under his . management Now it is rather hard 
to poke at him in this way. Knowing his natural infir« 
mity with respect to money, why did they allow him to 
touch the cash ? We remember the case of a clergyman 
administering the sacrament to a poor old man, in a village 


on our north coast, who on the cup being given him, 
drank up the whole of the wine. The pastor looked his 
surprise, but the old man's daughter, wishing to make the 
best of a bad matter, said, ' Please, sir, excuse father, for 
he was always a glutton about liquor ' ! There is the 
same excuse for O'Connell in money matters. His 
patriotic spirit doesn't run quite to his fingers' ends. The 
digits are his weak points. The cat when she was meta- 
morphosed into a fine lady, involuntarily sprang at a 
mouse. We must allow for the imperfection of our comr 
mon nature, even in the best of men." 

"Yet we must confess to some surprise on learning 
that the Repeal funds were all gone ! Seeing the money 
tumbling in by hundreds and thousands every week, we 
were foolish enough to imagine that, allowing for consider- 
able pickings, there was yet a large sum in the coffers of 
Conciliation HalL It appears however that not only has 
every farthing vanished, but the concern is actually in debt 
to Mr. O'Connell seven hundred pounds ! He is, in &ct, 
out of pocket on the business ! The whole of the money 
he says, has been very properly expended, and he offers 
to submit the vouchers to the inspection of any gentle- 
man, of an inquiring turn of mind, who would like to go 
through them, — ^the number of the said vouchers being 
seventy-four thousand. So that were any sceptic desperate 
enough to encounter such a task, if he could examine the 
vouchers at the rate of one every minute, and devote 
eight hours a day to the work, it would require five 
months to complete it Too many accounts are as formid- 
able a barridr to inquiry as too few. We think it was 
Walpole, who, when George the First insisted, contxaiy to 
the Ministers' wishes, upon examining some state papeis, 
sent him down a waggon-load, with word that there were 
six more coming; on which His Majesty gave instant 
orders for their return." 

While die dncf of the Repeaikn bad been p rjcii s in g 
on die ciednlitj of fais haw^ peasantry, a gi^ntic sjnslem 
of swindling was going on in Eo^and, more IxM and 
unblushing dian ercn diat whkfa had galled die poor 
Irish. In 1845 die Raflwaj mania in diis couutiy reached 
its climax. Eveiybodj was afl at once to become rich by 
taking diaies in broad and nanow gauges, passing through 
lands where the sarrcyof's theodohte had hardly yet been 
seen. John BnO had £suily quitted die diy walks of prose 
for pure and undiluted poetiy, and thus we have described 
his flight into the realms of imagination : — 

"^ It has often been ronarked that though the flights 
of imaginative genius seem to pass die bounds of truth 
and reah^, they do in feet keep lar within them. The 
phenomena of actual being are still more strange than 
the wildest visions of fimcy. In the creations of the 
poet or novelist a touch of insanity is sometimes given to 
the fictitious personages who figure on their pages. Yet 
this quality is dealt in but sparingly. A I^ear, or an 
Ophelia, a Meg Merrilies or a Noma, are found at inter- 
vals in the pages of Shakspeare or of Scott; but whjit 
would be thought of a dramatist who should reprciMfiit 
ali his characters as mad, and* construct an entire pliH 
out of their sayings and doings? Yet however h« tni^hl 
be accused of outraging the licence of fiction^ tlm m\ipi\ 
of die present times certainly gives a colourable plf;^ Uit 
such a conception. We have now before our eyirn tho 
starding phenomenon of national xmAm%%» Not that 
such a thing is entirely new. In a feebler tytic the? dlnrndf 
has shewn itself in times [Vast The tulip-mania in llol 
land was an early stage of the malady. The H<;iitli Hrtt 
Scheme was a ni6re advanced one. 'I*he mining fishing 
pearl-diving— gas-lifting— washing— .milking^ - MWilunt 
compressing— bubbles of '26 were the ravings of a Mill 
more violent attack. But the stronger paroxysm ha« 


been reserved for the year 1845. The Fire-King is now 
enthroned in our midst, and is spreading his enchantments 
through the land. To this demon we are delivered over, 
and are bound by him in strong delusions. All stories of 
witchcraft and diablerie are thrown into the category of 
tame probabilities. The philosopher's stone, could it be 
found, would be a mere toy for children. The rays of 
Aladdin's lamp pale before the fires of the loconK>tive. 
The song of the Sirens is drowned in the screech of the 
steam-whisde. Steam, in short, is the grand elemental 
power which is to re-fashion the world and send it spin- 
ning through its orbit in regenerated life and beauty. 
There are railway projects now in contemplation requiring 
for their completion about three hundred millions sterling. 
And still every day produces new projects. The map of 
England may therefore be expected in a few years to wear 
much the appearance of a multiplication table. An awfiil 
fate is impending over the Zimmermans of our times 
Not a nook will be left in the country in which a poet 
may vegetate. Wordsworth has already sounded an alarm 
in Cumberland. His prophetic ear has caught the puffing 
of a boiler winding around Rydal Mount, and in eloquent 
numbers he has invoked the local deities to guard their 
domains from the sacrilegious monster. But to whatever 
decision a committee of mountain-spirits and water- 
nymphs may come upon such a question, we fear their 
joint remonstrances would be quashed by the single voice 
of Hudson or Brunei. The fire-god would drive his 
clattering car even by the shores of old Romance, and 
unceremoniously send bards and minstrels to look out toi 
other quarters." 

" In looking over the list of the Patrcnis and Directors 
of the various schemes now afloat, the reader is naturally 
struck with the long catalogue of high sounding names 
with all sort3 of nondescript titles appended to them. 


These is one feature of these lists to which the unwary 
speculator should have especial reference. Whenever 
the directory, as a general rule, is composed, or mainly 
so, of individuals locally connected with the line, a fair 
guarantee is given of the integrity of the proposal. But 
when the Board consists of names all of which rank 
among the 'illustrious obscure,' the symptom may be 
regarded as fatal We say nothing against the cleverness 
of the gentlemen who thus patriotically promote public 
improvements in which they appear to have no personal 
interest Oiur only complaint is that they are too clever. 
A true account of the parties who figure in these lists 
would be a startling record. To what extent it would 
feunlitate the labors of some future compilers of the New- 
gate Calendar, we cannot say; but if the Railway Gazette 
is to be credited, there is one gentleman whose name 
appears as a director to no less than six companies, and 
who has at various times honored almost every gaol in 
England with his presence. Of the great mass of those 
accommodating directors who patronize indifferently every 
scheme that offers, it is perfectly well understood that 
their only object is to secure a good allotment of shares, 
to be jobbed in the market as soon as the gullibility of 
the public brings them to a premium. And as that 
amiable quality in our friend the Public was never more 
exuberant than at the present time, it may safely be 
affirmed that the gigantic scale upon which the art of 
plucking is now being practised, is beyond all parallel in 
the history of the country," 



It is well known that journalists as a class are not remark- 
able for underrating the influence they may be supposed 
to exert on the direction of public affairs. The obscurest 
newspaper editor in the kingdom, whose weekly sheet of 
politics, poetry, and jokes, scarcely travels a half-dozen 
miles from the printing-office, has sometimes thought it 
necessary to warn the government that he keeps a sharp 
eye on their movements, and that they will do well to 
remember that the Northern Nondescript will certainly 
call them to account for any peccadilloes of which they 
may happen to be guilty. Bold arguments, and still 
bolder declamation, which the leading journal of England 
would hardly venture to indulge in, are paraded in these 
provincial columns with a freedom peculiar to certain 
literary organs whose oracular assurance has g^ierally an 
inverse ratio to their information and intelligence. The 
extent, however, to which a widely circulated county 
paper is influential on the national politics, may tell 
for something ; and in the jeu tP esprit with whidi the 
West Briton writer opens the year 1847, there may be a 
verypardonable feeling of self-complacency couched under 
tiie pleasantry of the composition. Great things had 
unquestionably been done. The Bishop of Exeter had 
been taken down several inches. Free trade was become 
the order of the day. The bubbles of Irish repeal and 
English railways had exploded. If one powerful pen had 
not accomplished these Wonders, who can tell how largely 
it had contributed thereto? So the transition from the 
editorial chair to the editorial throne, may be marvellous 
but not altogether inexplicable. The Whig politicians of 


(Cornwall are accordingly addressed in a style ol more 
than ordinary dignity on the present occasion : — 

To Our Readers. 

Ladies and Gentlemen, 
We feel gratified in tendering you our acknowledgments, 
at the close of another year, of the steady and powerful 
support we continue to receive at your hands. 
We have to inform you that we are not at present upon 
good terms with sdl the foreign powers. Our relations 
of amity with Louis Philippe have been weakened 
by his bad conduct about the Spanish marriages. The 
King of Prussia has forfeited our respect by his want 
of proper spirit in the Cracow affair. We cannot say 
the same for the Emperors of Russia and Austria, hav- 
ing never heard of anybody who professed to respect 
either of them. That most belligerent person, the 
President of the United States, has rather more business 
just now than he can well manage, in Mexico. We 
notice his movements with some interest, because hit 
means are too limited to admit of his doing much mis- 
chief in more than one place at a time. 

We have ordered the following estimates to be laid 
before you, viz : — 

The probable loss to the Revenue occasioned by 
the excessive duty upon tea. 

The number of triennial renewals of the Income 
Tax before it is made a permanent impost 

The expense of educating the poor, compared with 
the cost of imprisoning, transporting, and h?mging them, 
for crimes resulting from ignorance. 

The diminution, in the last five years, of the dis- 
tance between Oxford ^nd Rome, with a calculauon of 
the time when they may be expected to join. 



The chances for and against Smith O'Brien's being 
a lineal descendent from Brian Boroo. 

We congratulate you on the legislative measures 
which have been passed this year, by which it is 
decided that the man who grows com, and the man 
who eats it, are not necessarily placed in a state of 
enmity with each other ; and that diere is no mysterious 
property belonging to grain, by which the conuneroe 
in that article may not be safely left to the common 
sense of mankind. 
Ladies and Gendemen, 

We have to acquaint you that no apology has yet 
been received from the Bishop of Exeter for his calumny 
against this journal. 

The most important feature of our domestic arrange- 
ments this year is the enlargement of our journal to its 
present size. We are happy to inform you that this 
somewhat hazardous undertaking has been attended 
with success beyond our expectations. The sacrifice 
which we made for the convenience and gratification of 
the public, has been compensated by a great increase 
in our previously large circulation. 

We enter on the labors of another year, resolved, 
to the utmost of our ability to render ourselves worthy 
of the distinguished patronage with which we have 
hitherto been honored." 

Of the articles succeeding this regal manifesto, the first 
to be noticed may be said to have a dignity not unworthy 
of so grand an introduction. Its subject was higher than 
corn-laws, or railways, or Repeal, or any sublunary ntat- 
ters whatever. A new planet had just been discovered; 
and the author of that discovery was a Comishman. No 
wonder that there was a general stir from the Tamar to 
the Land's End, for the county might well be proud of 
giving birth to a man who was to occupy such a position 


in the realm of Science. What gave to this achievement 
of genius its peculiar lustre, was the fact that the hitherto 
undetected wanderer in the starry heavens was traced not 
by an optical but a mathematical instrument It was not 
by tubes and glasses, but by a process of figures and for- 
mulae, shewing that although such a planet had not acttially 
been seen its assumed existence would account for certam 
stellar phenomena not otherwise explicable. From the 
article, which is an elaborate one, we have merely omitted 
such portions as relate to the claims which Le Verrier, the 
French astronomer, had put forth, to the honor of having 
made the same discovery at a somewhat earlier period, — 
claims which were refuted by a host of varied evidences : — 
'' One of the most remarkable discoveries in the history 
of Astromony is that of the new planet It is remarkable, 
in the first place, as being not an optical^ but a purely 
isUdUchtal discovery. The telescope had swept the 
heavens and made no report of it It was in that other 
and more marvellous creation, the mind of a solitary 
student, that first ^ it trembled forth into a star.' The 
occasion was as follows : — Uranus had long been regarded 
as the outermost planet of the system, moving as a sen- 
tinel upon the line which separates our solar region from 
sidereal space. But as even sentinels themselves require 
looking after, so it was thought proper to keep an eye 
upon Uranus. Nor was this caution in vain, for he was 
soon detected moving in what a policeman would call a 
very questionable way. It is well known that the planets 
always bow to each other in passing, — a drcumstance 
which probably gave Chesterfield his taste for astronomy. 
But the deflections of Uranus exceeded the established 
laws of celestial etiquette. The extent to which his 
courtesy to Jupiter and Saturn might carry him, admitted 
of precise calculation ; but beyond this, there was an 
attraction in some other quarter, the object of which was 


not discoverable. Himself living at No. i in the planet- 
ary row, he could have neighbours only on one side, yet 
his perturbations were such as they could not have caused. 
It was then suggested that No. i was possibly an error, 
and that the unknown object of attraction might be found 
on the other side ; and such has proved to be the case. 
A new planet, exterior to Uranus, has been discovered, 
circling at about twice the distance of his orbit By this 
discovery the irregularities in his motion are accounted 
for, and the solar system is enlarged to four times the 
extent previously assigned to it" 

"The traveller who has come into Cornwall by the 
north road must remember a long moor-land tract between 
Launceston and Bodmin. If his journey was performed 
on the roof of the coach, against a sleety, biting south- 
wester, his memory will not need any refresher. The 
recollections of such an excursion are not to be effaced 
even by the consolations of the Jamaica Inn. A more 
desolate spot can scarcely be found. Yet Nature some- 
times grows ffim where she grows nothing else ; and on 
this bleak jxioor she has produced at least one such man 
as, with all her tropical magnificence, she never produced 
within ten degrees of the Equator. A few years ago a 
small farmer named Adams, resident on the moor, had 
a boy who, if we are correctiy informed, disappointed his 
father's hopes of making a good agriculturist of him. His 
fits of abstraction and dreamy reverie were held to be 
very unpropitious. He had somehow got a taste for 
mathematics, and the highest passion of his life was to 
pore over books 

' that explain 
The purer elements of truth, inyolTed 
In linee and numbers.' 

^' And so this passion grew upon him that he was at 
length abandoned to its impulses, and allowed to take his 


own way in despair of a better. It was clear that h€ would 
never pick up prizes at a ploughing-match or a cattle- 
show ; — that the lord of the manor, or squire of the parish 
would never have to stand up and make a solemn oration 
over him, shewing him to wondering spectators as the 
man who had improved the breed of rams, or fattened 
bullocks to a distressing obesity. Yet, as the path to 
such &me was closed, there was still some small honors 
awaiting him. After a school training he entered at St. 
John's College, Cambridge, where, at the end of his 
undergraduateship he became senior wrangler. He is 
now one of the mathematical tutors of that College." 

*' Having thus introduced the planet and Mr. Adams 
to our readers, it is proper to state in what relation these 
parties — ^the star and the mathematician — stand to each 
other. For this purpose we must request those who have 
it not, to buy, borrow, or steal, the Mechanic^ Magazine 
of the 26th Dec. last, in which they will find a paper 
entitled, ' Adams the discoverer of the new planet? Apart 
from its bearing on the main question, it will amply repay 
perusal as an admirable resume of the facts of a compli- 
cated case, divested of extraneous matter, and presented 
in the most compact and logical form. We only regret 
that, though brief in relation to the interest of the subject, 
it is yet too long to transfer to our columns, and it is 
generally an impracticable task to abridge an abridge- 
ment We must content ourselves with a brief advertence 
to the main facts." 

''The unaccountable perturbations in the motion of 
Uranus, of which we have already spoken, have for the 
last thirty years been a vexed question with astronomers. 
Their variance with the laws of gravitation was shewn by 
the publication of Bouvard's Tables of Uranus in 1821, 
and the discordance was still more prominently exhibited 
in the Cambridge Observations published in 1828, under 


the superintendence of the Astronomer RoyaL The 
first Aint of an exterior planet appears to have been 
given by Dr. Hassey to Professor Airy in 1834, but 
the suggestion was not followed up by either party. 
The Doctor said he found himself 'totally inadequate 
to the task,* and the Professor asserted that even if 
such a planet existed ' it would be nearly impossible 
even to find its place.* Bouvard said such an idea 
had occurred to him, but he had not pursued it Han- 
sen conjectured there were /wo planets beyond Uranus, 
* as one disturbing body would not satisfy the phe- 
nomena.' " 

"So Doctors differed, and such was the state of 
things in 1841, when Mr. Adams entered upon his in- 
quiries. It is evident that he had to begin d^ now. 
The vague hints which had been previously thrown out 
were of no avail to him. After much pondering he 
came to the conclusion that the cause of the perturba- 
tion of Uranus was a planet existing beyond it To 
demonstrate this, he commenced a series of calculations 
and in September, 1845, he completed the solution of 
the problem. In that month he transmitted to Pro- 
fessor Aiiy a paper stating the position of the planet, 
its magnitude, sidereal motion, longitude, and eccen- 
tricity. When it is remembered that at that time the 
planet itself had not been distinguished, this must be 
regarded as a very wonderful discovery. 'It has been 
effected,* says the writer in the Mechanic^ Magcmne^ 
by solving a kind of inverse problem of perturbations.* 
That is, certain perturbations in the motion of Uranus 
were hitherto unexplained ; by assuming that a body 
of a certain mass moved in a certain orbit, at a specified 
rate and distance firom the sun, all these perturbations 
were explained. Thus, by the mere application of 
analysis and calculation, the mathematician has been 


enabled to say to the astronomer, * Look at a defined 
part of the immensity of space at a certain period, and 
you will see an undiscovered planet that acts upon 
Uranus and is the cause of that planef s erratic move- 
ments.' Well may the Astronomer Royal assert that 
'in the whole histoiy of science there is nothing like 
this.' Under such circumstances it is not to be won- 
dered at that in the recent University intelligence we 
find (and heartily glad we are of the announcement) 
that the master and fellows of St John's College have 
commenced a subscription, which already amounts to 
j^6oo, for the purpose of doing honor to Mr. J. C. 
Adams, one of their body, who * they consider, was the 
first among the mathematicians of Europe to determine 
from perturbations the unknown place of a disturbing 
planet exterior to Uranus.' The sum to be raised is 
to found a liberal prize for the study of Astronomy, to 
be called 'The Adams Prize.' We congratulate our 
accomplished countryman on these substantial testimo- 
nies to his merits, and rejoice that the county which 
produced a Davy now inscribes upon the roll of Science 
another name not less illustrious." 

With a slight variation in the order of time, we may 
connect the planetary subject with the still nobler subject 
of Poetry, on the high claims of which the writer ex- 
patiates with his usual fervor — ^when that topic is under 
discussion — on the occasion of Loiti John Russell's 
accepting the Lord-Rectorship of the University of Glas- 
gow to the prejudice of the poet Wordsworth : — 

" We regret that Lord John Russell has accepted the 
Lord - Rectorship of the University of Glasgow. The 
dioice of the students lay between his lordship and Mr. 
Wordsworth, the poet The latter was elected by a clear 
majority of about twenty votes. But by an ancient custom 
of the University it is necessary that the winning candidate 


should not only have a numerical majority from among 
the whole of the students, but that three out of the four 
nations (such being the technical term for the four pro- 
vinces into which, according to University language, 
Scotland is divided) should be in his favor. On the 
present occasion the nations were equally divided. The 
election was therefore decided by the casting vote of the 
Provost, who gave it for Lord John Russell. It was 
generally thought that under such circumstances his 
lordship would waive the honor in favor of Mr. Words- 
worth. Such however is not the case. Lord John has 
accepted the office, and the day will shortly be announced 
for the delivering of his inaugural address.** 

" We have no right to censure Lord John for what he 
has done. His election was according to the customary 
usage of the University ; . and it rested entirely with him- 
self to accept the office or decline it But, situated as he 
was, we think there would have been more honor in 
declining than accepting it Had any other man than 
Wordsworth being opposed to him, there might have 
been little meant in the concession, but there would have 
been something graceful in waiving such a distinction in 
favor of the venerable poet Lord John, too, could afford 
to do this. The man who fills the first post in the 
government of the first Empire in the world might 
consent to forego for twelve months the rectorship of 
a Scotch university. We say, for twelve months; for 
by doing so he would have established so strong a claim 
to the gratitude and respect of the students that his 
election at the end of that time might be reckoned on as 
a certainty. It is, we fear, not so certain that another 
opportunity wiD occur for the election of Wordsworth. 
He is now in his seventy-sixth year, and bending under 
the infirmities of age. Another year, and he may be 
beyond the reach of all earthly honors." 


'* With all our respect for Lord John Russell, we must 
yet bear in mind that he does not rank in the same class 
with such men as Wordsworth. Of all its bounties intel- 
lectual gifts are those of which Providence is most frugal. 
Of all intellectual gifts poetical genius is the most trans- 
cendent And of all living poets Wordsworth is, by 
conunon consent, the most distinguished. Between him 
and Lord John Russell there is not only no rivalry, but 
no common ground of comparison. You might as well 
attempt to compare a flower with a mineral; they are 
separated by impassable distinctions. We say this from 
no disparagement to his lordship, but simply because 
statesmen are such common productions compared with 
poets. 'Where Nature,* says Sir William Temple, *pro- 
duces one man capable of becoming a great poet, she 
produces a thousand capable of becoming as great warriors 
and statesmen as any in histoiy.' The dignity of states- 
men is from without ; that of the poet is from within. 
The first acquires fame amid the strife of parties ; the 
other wins his in solitude. The one is made great by 
circumstances; the other by a divine necessity of his 
nature; and the latter kind of greatness is that which 
best becomes tho^ who fill the most honorable posts in 
seats of learning and of science. The University of Glas- 
gow would have been signally honored by electing to its 
rectorial chair a man who would occupy if not merely as 
representative of the literary spirit of the times, but him- 
self the first and foremost of his age.** 

Not less heartily was the tribute of respect paid to a 
gentleman who, though occupying a walk in literature so 
radically differing from that of the Rydal-Mount poet, 
had, in the writer's opinion, laid the masses of English 
readers under far higher obligations : — 

'' We observe in an Edinburgh journal an announce- 
ment of a landed estate, of some considerable value, in 


Scotland, having lately been purchased by Mr. William 
Chambers ; and among the miscellaneous items of domes- 
tic news, of which every day brings its fresh batch, we 
have not met with onie which has given us more hearty 
gratification. This gentleman has long been known, in 
connection with his brother Robert, as the able and 
enterprising publisher of Chambers's Edinburgh Journal, 
in connection with an Educational Course of Works on 
Mathematics, Science, and the Classics, as well as an 
immense variety of cheap and popular publications for 
the diffusion of almost every kind of useful knowledge. 
We doubt whether there is another man alive to whom 
the public are so greatly indebted for stimulating an 
intellectual appetite and furnishing it with pure and 
healthful nutriment, as Mr. William Chambers. The 
consciousness of being the originator of such extensive 
good is, we doubt not, the substantial reward of his 
labors; but there are also rewards of another kind — 
which none but fools or hypocrites contemn — and of 
which we rejoice to find that he is blest with a goodly 
porti(Hi. With a reputation that monarchs might envy, 
he has also acquired the means of an honorable independ- 
ence, and of supporting a style of life in perfect keeping 
with the high literary and artistical tastes by which he is 
distinguished. Most appropriately do such rewards await 
such men. The publication of the Journal was an era in 
English literature. Until that time all periodical writing 
of a high character was also at a high price. The nK)st 
popular work of the day was Blackwood^ s Magazine^ bat 
the price placed it beyond the reach of the masses; while 
the general tone of its articles, except in fiction, was 
suited only to readers above the average level in point of 
scholarly intelligence. The low-priced magazines were 
trad), without an exception. In this state of thinp Mr. 
Chambers undertook to supply the public with a weddy 


sheet of vigorous original writing, on subjects of popular 
interest, for three half-pence. He made his calculations^ 
and found that it would require a sale of thirty thousand 
to clear the expenses only. But strong in his faith of the 
intellectual demand on the part of the public, and of his 
ability to meet such a demand, he started upon the enter- 
prise, and his labors were speedily rewarded by a sale of 
seventy thousand copies. The charm of the >^ma/, and 
the secret of its extraordinary success, is that it blends so 
closely with the philosophy of common life. It is from want 
of a similar attraction that some other kindred works, — 
such as the Penny MagazinCj &c, though started under 
favorable auspices and conducted with much ability, have 
successively disappeared. The subjects of which they 
mainly treated, though curious and interesting, were not 
generally of the kind which blended with the ordinary 
thoughts and feelings of the reader. Chambers, on the 
contrary, confines himself chiefly to the walks of every- 
day life. He gossips with you at the breakfast table, at 
the fire-side; becomes your counsellor in the shop or 
counting-house ; talks with the scholar about his fiivorite 
authors, or with the boys about their tops and marbles. 
He marks every phase of social life, and speaks well and 
wisely upon all. And now that the fiiiit of his labors 
appears in the tangible form of a landed estate, we trust 
he will long live to ramble through his own fields and 
muse under the shadow of his own trees. He will be long 
known to posterity as one who was a blessing to his age 
and his country." 

The year 1848 was marked by the death of two 
men of distinction in the political world, — Lord George 
Bentinck, and Lord Melboiume; of whom the following 
obituary notice appeared in the journal: — 

*'We have not for a long time recorded a more 
unexpected or melancholy event than the death of Lord 


George Bentinck. His rise and his fall have been equally 
sudden. A few years ago his name was hardly known to 
the public. At a single bound he sprang into the leader- 
ship of a great political party; and for duree years main- 
tained his post with desperate fidelity. In an instant he 
disappears. His energy imabated, in high health and 
spirits, rich in fame and honors, and surrounded by troops 
of firiends, in one moment the scene changes — ^he clasps 
the dust, and the grave wraps him in its eternal shadow. 
His sun has gone down while it was yet day. .The gloom 
of midnight has followed at once upon the solar blaze." 

'' His lordship had not many of the qualities of a great 
statesman. He succeeded but badly even in the ordinary 
run of parliamentary speaking. To oratory he had no 
pretensions whatever. Beside these natural disqualifica- 
tions for a high post in the senate, he had devoted the 
prime of his manhood to the sports of the turf, a pursuit 
the most likely to debase a noble nature or to confirm a 
bad one. It was wonderful that against such disadvan- 
tages he so successfully struggled. His opponents have 
often twitted him with allusions to his early history, but 
there was no generous or high minded man in England 
who did not admire the moral heroism which he displayed 
in the later passages of his life. At an age when, to use 
Paley's words, the habits are usually set, he reversed the 
entire current of his existence. To exchange betting- 
books for blue-books, to pass fix>m the course at New- 
market to the floor of the House of Commons, to cast the 
exuvia of the jockey, and firom the brutality and black- 
guardism of the turf soar at once into the loftiest sphere 
of English intellect and English patriotism, — all this was 
a task which could be accomplished only by an imperial 
potentiality of the will Yet this he did accomplish. It 
was like a disenchantment — ^reminding us of the oriental 
tales in which spirits imprisoned in the form of anju^M^l* 


are suddenly restored to their natural grace and beauty. 
It must be remembered too, to Liord George's credit, that 
notwithstanding his long and intimate connection with 
the tuif, he was untainted with its vices, and not only so, 
but he brought to bear upon it a rigorous code of honor, 
of which the impression is still retained." 

'' Nor was the resolution he so suddenly displayed a 
mere momentary impulse. The same energy which 
governed his first movement distinguished him to the 
end of his career. Without genius, or eloquence, or 
statesman-like breadth of view, he did everything by 
sheer industry and indomitable will. Let his qualifica- 
tions in some respects be rated as low as they may be, it 
was impossible that any man could rise to the station he 
occupied in the British senate without sterling qualities 
of some kind. We think the secret of his strength lay 
in that one ordinary word — ^perseverance. The term 
'difficulty' had no place in his vocabulary. His aim 
was always to master the entire details of any question 
he grappled with. Facts were his inspiratiorL It was 
this which made him so formidable an opponent to 
superior men. It is inconceivable how much patient 
toQ he must have devoted to the infinity of statistical 
knowledge of which he made himself the master. But 
all these things are now a dream. We happened to be 
present at what, if we remember rightly, was the last 
great effort his lordship made in the House of Commons. 
He spoke five hours. At this moment we recall his 
voice, his manner, his fi^quent Reference to the heap of 
statistical documents placed before him, — every tone and 
gesture shewing his intense earnestness — and all throng- 
ing back upon our memory with the deamess of a present 
reality. And then our e]re glances on these lines in the 
homely record before us — ' He was found lying in the 
footpath, in the flood-meadows, near the Welbeck kennelst 


having been dead several hours.' Here is enough for 
silent, and it will be the reader's ^It if not also profit- 
able, thought We need add no more." 

Three months later; — ** Lord Melbourne is dead. On 
Thursday last there was a brief announcement in the 
journals of his illness — on Saturday came the news oi his 
death. The suddenness of the event, however, is less 
felt, as it was generally known that for some years past 
his lorSdship's health has been declining. He had so l<»ig 
dropped aside too, from active life, that our knowledge of 
him was mainly historical For a statesman to be with- 
drawn seven years from public observation, has just the 
same effect on his fame as if he were in his grave. Men 
of genius, of profound thought, and even thecreaiitfeorda 
of statesmen, live on in the impressions they make upon 
after times. They still have a voice and an intellectual 
presence. But the ordinary run of politicians — wiA 
whom we must class Lord Melbourne — ^have but an official 
existence. Circumstances make or unmake them. It is 
' out of sight, and out of mind' with them. They pro- 
duce no echo, cast no shadow. Then, the present times 
are so crowded with events that seven years fill as great a 
space in history as half-a-century in the days of our grand- 
fathers. The face of Europe has changed since Lord 
Melbourne was in office. In the mere chronology of 
events, that was only about seven years ago, bnt with 
regard to their relative magnitude, his government is as 
remote from us as were the affairs of the Protectoiate 
from the people who lived in the reign of Queen Anne"* 

'* Yet diere must have been some remarkable quafities 
in the man who held the premiership of England from 
I S3 5 to 1 841, — ^who during that long and busy period 
took precedence of all the magnates of the land, and 
was virtually sovereign of this mighty empire. For his 
lordship's negative qualifications we are at no loss what- 


ever. There is no great political principle of which he 
was either the champion or exponent Had he never 
lived the philosophy of government would be precisely 
what it now is. He originated nothing, nor did he enter 
with any enthusiasm into the views of others. Then, he 
was not an orator; constitutionally deficient in deep 
feeling and imagination, how could he be? He was not 
even a superior speaker, nor a ready debater, and his 
knowledge of public business was probably the least of 
any minister of our times. In the face of such disqualifi- 
cations as these it seems wonderful how he succeeded at 
all; nor is the wonder lessened when we find that among 
his personal qualities there was no peculiar talent or 
accomplishment to come in aid of these capital ' defects. 
But the secret of his power lay in this — ^that while none 
of his qualities were remarkable in their kind, some were 
eminently so in their degree. They were only such as 
he shared in common with thousands, but then in him 
they flowered into the most luxuriant growth. He was 
like the exhibitor of the longest carrot or the largest 
potato of the season,— -common things in themselves, but 
micommon in their development You might say of 
him as Burke said of Pitt, — that he was the sublime of 
mediocrity. One of his great natural advantages was his 
sunny temper. He was courteous and winning in his 
manners, and always bland and cheerful Even political 
animosity melts away before a perpetual artillery of smiles 
and pleasantries, and these he was ever showering around 
him. This was the natural temper of the man, and being 
felt as such, it greatly helped to smooth his path of office. 
Then he met every kind of misrepresentation and calumny 
with unruffled calmness. These he regarded as inevitable 
in his high station and made up his mind to meet them as 
composedly as a traveller in all weathers does, to pick his 
way now and then through the mud Hazlitt tells us that in 


one of his rides near Venice he saw an old sun-dial with 
the motto, * Haras nan numero nisi serenas^ There is a 
beautiful philosophy in this, into the spirit of which Lord 
Melbourne fully entered He looked upon life — ^that 
part of it which alone deserves the name — as made up 
only of sunny hours, and when gloomy ones came they 
were passed by as interruptions and not counted upon 
his dial-plate. ' I count only the hours that are serene/ 
he would say; and at the table of a friend, or in the 
society of clever and accomplished women, to which 
he was veiy partial, or at the Palace, where he was a 
special favorite, he would find a balmy oblivion of the 
disagreements of office." 

The limits of this volume will allow but little more to be 
added in the way of extracts from the journal After the 
year 1850 the writex's contributions to the newspapers 
were comparatively few, his attention being mainly occu- 
pied by other matters which left him neither much of 
time nor inclination to write laigely on political subjects. 
These subjects indeed never lost their interest, and occar 
sionly, when some topic of more than ordinary attracdcKi 
came in the way, the pen moved as nimbly as ever. But 
as a regular contributor to the press his work may, about 
this period, be said to have terminated. 

In devoting a portion of the following pages to matters 
of correspondence, the compiler may observe tiiat he has 
no means of judging to what extent the discussion of 
subjects literary, religious, or of other kinds, in the 
epistolary form, might have supplied materials for the 
present volume. It is not improbable that in a course 
of a long intimacy with a large and increasing circle of 
friends many letters had passed, the publication of which 
would have been very interesting. All that can be said 


on this subject is, that such applications as he has made 
to parties who were thought most capable of contributing 
to this department of the Memoirs, were generally unsuc- 
cessful; and he has therefore thought best to give a 
selection from various letters addressed to himself during 
a residence of several years in Pembrokeshire. As a 
gossiping comment *^de rebus omnihus et quibusdatn aliis^ 
he has no doubt they will be acceptable ; and although 
letters'written'for the express purpose of dealing with grave 
matters in religion or philosophy may, as far as direct 
importance is concerned, have a merit peculiarly their 
own, it will yet be allowed that as a portraiture they fall 
infinitely short of those free and unstudied communica- 
tions^which pretend to nothing but a general conversation 
on paper. 



Dear C- 


Redruth, 17 Aprils 1841. 

I have been for a few days so closely engaged with 
our Missionary Services that my letters have gone un- 

On the main subject of your last I am uncertain 
whether you are in joke or earnest, and as there is some- 
thing awkward in writing very seriously in reply to a 
question which may possibly be nothing more than a 
grave jest, I must wait until this is cleared up. 

I suppose ♦ * * * will send you a very ample 
chronicle of the events of the past week. I have reasons 
for supposing that more was seen by that person on these 
occasions than by common observers. On the morning 
on which the Deputation breakfasted with me, together 
with some gentlemen who met them, your relative was so 
overawed by their presence that it was with difficulty she 
was able to assist at the table, and would certainly have 
foundered at her post had it not happened that by looking 
occasionally at another person of not very imposing chara- 
ter, she was cooled down to an endurable state of feeling. 
Mr. Malkin has this day left, having spent a week wi& 
us. He is the most child-like man in simplicity that you 
can imagine. He idolizes Methodism, and has spent 
much of his time while here in social chat with G. P. and 
another friend. They have been good listeners, and ha\'e 
sung hymns to him in return for his narratives, &c A 
happier trio you have rarely met with. He goes next 
week on the other Deputation and returns here on the 
Sunday to preach. 


Mr. Newton seems to retain all his energy. I heard 
him preach at Camborne, Helstone, and here. His 
sermon at Camborne was merely his Centenary Address 
moulded into another form, but of course highly interest- 
ing in any form. At Helstone he preached on " Beloved, 
now are we the sons of God," &c ; and if tears testify 
the power of eloquence, the confirmation was ample. 
Here, the scene on the Sunday evening was beyond any 
similar occasion. The chapel was crammed soon after 5, 
and he commenced the service 25 minutes before 6, 
seeing that the house could hold no more. Crowds were 
still arriving. The vestries were thronged ; every avenue 
was occupied by a dense mass ; the galleries crowded. 
Mr. Newton said he had witnessed no such spectacle 
since his return from America. He gave us the sermon 
he preached before Congress, from "Yea, doubtless, but I 
count all things but loss," &c. The Deputation has been 
a successful one so far as collections go, the sums from 
8 circuits amounting to ^899, an advance of ^40 on 
the previous year. 

Next week our old friend Henry Davies will be 
down with a Mr. Stead, to take Truro, Falmouth, Tuck- 
ingmill, &c. 

I am, dear C, 

Your affectionate Brother, T. G. 

Redruth, 1841. 

I suppose your other correspondent chronicles the 
intelligence for you with great regularity. I have heard 
however a complaint that you are very severe in your 
criticisms on the style of your friend's letters. The con- 
flict between such professional persons must I presume 
be very awful, so I decline going into the minutiae of the 
case. Do you ever get any newspapers ? — I mean Cor- 
nish ones. If not I can occasionally send you one ' 


only on one condition — ^that you punctually return it 
The reason for this is, that I occasionally supply articles, 
and wish to keep the copies. Has it ever come across 
your thoughts to employ yourself in a similar way? 
Opportunities might probably be found if your taste led 
to such an occupation. I have just had an offer from 
another journal, and should have closed with it but for 
other engagements. An engagement of this kind would 
suit you I should think very well. The matter may not 
be very difficult to manage. Look around you and select 
the most stupid paper. Send the publisher one or two 
good articles as leaders, gratuitously. Then stop, — and 
ten to one you will soon hear from him. You may bear 
in mind that Mr. Watson found it both pleasant and 
profitable to fiunish a weekly , article to a Liverpool 
paper ; and Montgomery was for the greater part of his 
life editor of the Sheffield Iris; so there is nothing to 
shrink from in the nature of the occupation. 

I am this morning called on a business which I think 
is well worthy of engaging in ; viz., to get up an address 
to young men of the working class, on the importance of 
mental culture. Mr. L. wishes me to deliver a discourse 
on this subject at North Country, and I have promised to 
do so. My main object is to establish a small library, or 
book-club, for miners and others. This kind of work 
seems to me to be greatly neglected, but it certainly 
ought to be pushed with vigor, and would inevitably be 
attended with good results. Have you any popular insti- 
tution of this kind at Haverford. 

Poor P. died yesterday. Aunt has been confined to ber 
bed three or four weeks from the effects of a frdl, and 
seems to be in a doubtful state. Mr. S. has given up 
his spirit business and thinks of setting on a school. 
You have heard I suppose that you have a new relative. 


Mr. H. — SO you may now cany your head a little higher. 
Mr. F. H. is Grand Ruler, for the District, of the order 
of Rechabites. 

Remember me kindly to Mr. Button, who I hope is 

Your affectionate Brother, T. G. 

P.S. Lots of odd creatures that I occasionally fall in 
with desired to be remembered to you. So I include the 
whole nameless fraternity in this P.S. 

Redruth, 26/uney 1841. 

Your welcome letter duly came to hand by last post 
As you are now your own master might you not as well 
lengthen your tour by running down for two or three 
weeks. If home has any charms to attract you I suppose 
I need not say that we shall be glad to have you with 
us as long as you can manage to stay. Let me hear 
from you in a post or two whether you think of coming. 

I would have dispatched last week's paper sooner if I 
had been aware that our politics had any attraction for 
you. In the W. B, you will see a poem by Capt 
Boundy. Pray address that paper to him instead of me. 
You see there is a sad change here. Three Tories will be 
returned for the County. Five years ago we had four 
Whigs, and now but one. It is no wonder the Gazette 
should crow, though on the whole H. is less boisterous in 
his triumph than I expected. We are endeavoring in 
the ^ ^. to be as merry as we can under such mishaps. 
'To say the truth, however, I am the only merry party in 
the concern. My colleagues have not much mirth in 
them. One of them generally limits his lucubrations to 
3 inches, which is too narrow a compass to admit of much 
humour. H. has a very lively article this week in reply 
to the one ''in type" as announced in the paper returned, 
with which you will be amused when it reaches you. I 


am obliged to delay sending you the papers a few days 
after they come out, having occasion to refer to them 
while concocting other articles. 

I have no intention to "touch up" the gentleman you 
speak of, but rather think of giving up the whole business 
when the election is got through; for it occupies my 
thoughts too much, and withdraws them from business 
of more importance. 

I am not yet decided as to what excursion I shall take 
during the summer, but think it most probable that I 
shall have to make a long round, — say Gloucester, Liver- 
pool, Glasgow, Hull, Newcastle, London, &c. If so, I 
shall endeavour to make your port, though it lies too 
much out of the route to calculate on with certainty. I 
am very much obliged by the polite invitation of your 

Your affectionate Brother, T. G. 

Wheal Ellen Mine, ii Aug.^ 1841. 

I have been reproaching myself from day to day with 
having allowed your last to remain so long unanswered 
But if a press of business is at any time an excuse for such 
neglect, I think the engagements of various kinds that 
have been crowding upon me since the receipt of your 
letter may plead in my favor. Having lately been 
appointed to the charge of United Hills, I have found 
so many things there requiring prompt attention that very 
little time has been left me even for attending to my own 
business. But as time can be found for anything when 
we choose to make it, I have just now disengaged myself 
from some business here, and am now resolved by hook 
or crook to indite a sheet for your special edification 
before lay down may pen. 

As you could not see your way clear to run down when 
on your furlough, I am glad that you employed your time 


SO agreeably on your tour. "C has been through 

seven counties," is the pet phrase of the household circle 
when recounting the history of that marvellous expedition. 
In short you are now looked upon as a travelled man, 
inferior only to that scion of the House of Garland whose 
pilgrimage to Quebec and Montreal reflected such a lustre 
on his kin. You seem to have exceeded our kinsman in 
getting yoiur ideas into a focus, and I was veiy much 
amused by your account of the journey. It was fortunate 
for Mr. Antrobus to meet with so good a decipherer of 
your uncle's hieroglyphics. I am glad too that you have 
for once travelled on a railroad It is clear that the two 
great classes into which society is now divided are those 
who have travelled by railway and those who have not 
The latter exist only upon sufferance, and will not be 
tolerated much longer. 

H. seems somewhat disconcerted at your reply to some- 
thing she wrote about the Com Laws. I do not exactly 
understand what her opinions are on the subject, but it 
appears that you invited an expression of them, and then 
— ^when she had done her best — treated her communica- 
tion with a somewhat contemptuous feeling. — I send you 
herewith a batch of newspapers which ought to have been 
sent you long since. But being under some uncertainty 
whether any papers would find you out at Swansea, and 
being also anxious to give you die full benefit of the dis- 
cussions arismg out of the election afiGsurs, I delayed 
sending them until I was certain of your whereabout 

Our list of Stations has been read to-day. We are to 
have, I find, Mr. Appleby, from St Ives, of whom I have 
heard two accounts, — one, that he is a very popular 
preacher, and the other, that he is not ; one, that he has 
refused to accept an invitation for a third year, the other, 
that he has had no such invitation ; one, that he is leav- 
ing through disgust at the tee-total mania, the other, that 


he is himself a tee-totaller. — Mr. Dunn goes to Dudley, 
which I suppose is quite as near as Mr. R wishes to have 
him. The latter gentleman is wonderiiilly brightened up 
lately; all his nervous fidgetdness is gone, and he is 
quite firm and sprightly. — ^Mr. D. has been here to-day, 
heaving some dolorous sighs over the reappointment of 
the Tuckingmill preacher, who it seems is to have a 
colleague considerably below par; so that the prospect 
for the next year is a blank one. Of the new Camborne 
preacher I have heard nothing. They expected a Mr. 
Henley, fix>m Manchester, but he is kept there. Thoe 
was also some hope of getting Mr. Henry Davies, but he 
also goes to Manchester. 

There is nothing new in our fanuly circle. I am writing 
these odds and ends in a stir of other business, and shall 
let this sheet pass for nothing in our correspondence. At 
the same time it will be but polite in you to acknowledge 
its receipt, and when you are writing you may as well fill 
up the sheet 

Most £adthfully yours, T. G. 

Redruth, 2^ Oct. 184 1. 

Your long silence would almost lead me to suppose 
that it had escaped your memory that you are a letta 
in my debt I sent you about two months ago a sheet of 
foolscap containing divers matters of news which though 
not very interesting were the best that could be picked 
up at the time. They were therefore deserving of an 
acknowledgment Whenever I used to send Capt I. V. 
of Wheal Lushington, a newspaper, he sent a letter to 
acknowledge the receipt of it When will you learn to 
imitate such a model of politeness ? 

I understand, however, that a letter to I. was partly 
intended for me, but that my absence fix>m home induced 
you to transfer my interest in it to her. I beg to inforai 


you nevertheless that I am at this time located at Red- 
ruth, and able to conduct my own correspondence. I 
must therefore request that all communications intended 
for me, be addressed in propria persona. 

Since I wrote you I have had a long ramble — the route 
being Bridgewater, Cheltenham, Birmingham, Liverpool, 
Fleetwood-on-Wye, -Ulverstone, Windermere, Keswick, 
Carlisle, Newcastle, York, Hull, Derby, London, and 
back. As my attention was mostly occupied by business 
I have added but little, from the tour, to my remembrances 
of the sublime or the beautiful. My sense of the latter 
was certainly very highly gratified during the few days I 
spent in Cumberland. I hope that some day you will 
have an opportunity of visiting that delightful country. I 
do not wonder that a cluster of poets should have setded 
down in it But they, alas, are mortal. Wordsworth, I 
fear, is feeling too sensibly the advances of age. He has 
lately beeurat Bath for his health. I passed one of his 
sons on the road under Rydal Mount, and thought it 
something to see even him. Southey is sunk into idiocy, 
and that too so smgularly complete that he does not 
appear to have the slightest glimmering of mind. He 
knows no one, not even his wife; and has scarcely sense 
to put one foot before the other in walking, but requires 
to be pushed along, as though the very will were paralyzed. 
With all this, he is in perfect health, — ^much better than 
when he had his reason. I was sorry to find that Mrs. 
Southey (Caroline Bowles) is not very popular at Kes- 
wick. Since her union with Southey, things have gone 
unhappily at Greta Hall, so much so that his son and 
daughter have quitted the paternal roof and taken another 
house. As they are very much esteemed, Mrs. Southey 
naturally sufifers by the comparison. Where the fault is I 
do not know, and would rather not know than have the 
moral image I had formed of the authoress of '' Chapters 


on Churchyards" and "The Birth-Day" defeced by 
ungentle qualities. — Of the Opium Eater, De Quincy, I 
could get no account in Cumberland. Nobody that I 
fell in with (so you may guess in what a dignified circle I 
moved) knew that there was such a man extant^ and could 
scarcely believe that a person of any note bearing that 
name had ever been in Cumberland at all. So I gave up 
further inquiry. 

At Carlisle I visited the Castle, and there saw the small 
windows, mere loop-holes, which let into the cell of Fer- 
gus Mac Ivor the dim light that shone upon the last few 
days of his existence. The flooring is fallen away, and 
it is only by these holes in the masonry that the spot they 
occupied is known. 

I am writing late on Saturday night, and my object 
having been merely to remind you of your obligation, I 
hope you will duly esteem my liberality in filling up the 
sheet with such important news. The Ismail talk here 
does not fiimish me with any materials at present I do 
not know whether you have heard of poor Kingston's 
death. He died three weeks ago of a rapid consumption. 
If you read the leader in the C G, sent herewith, you 
will see what a loss the paper sustains in him. 

S. P. died suddenly at Helstone on Sunday last Daniel 
G. is married. Lord John Russell is on a visit to Pen- 
darves. J. V.' has sent home a dog from South America, 
a present to his father. - Mr. H. said here in his sermon 
the other day, that no Radical could be a good man, — 
which B. has reported in the West Briton^ and is looked 
upon in consequence as an ill-natured fellow. 

Your affectionate Brother, T. G. 

Redruth, 13 Nov.^ 1841. 

Redruth, 13 Nav,^ 1841. 
I did not, as you required, answer your last by return 
of post, from a feeling that it would scarcely become me 


to intrude so quickly upon the time and attention of a 
gentleman who by his own account ought to be divided 
into three men to go fairly through his multifarious duties. 
I hope that no such alarming consequence as you feared 
will result from yoiu* not attending the missionary meet- 
ing at which you should have been while writing your 
letter, for it would be very painful to my feelings to have 
been, however innocently, the cause of recalling one of 
our missionaries. 

Our meetings here, being only the minor ones, have 
gone off flatly enough in point of oratorical interest, but 
have turned out to admiration in the way of raising the 
wind. At Bridge we had Mr. * * *, who, as ill luck 
would have it, happened on the morning of the same day 
to stumble on an old forgotten document containing the 
particulars of the additions made to the various classes in 
the Revival of 1824, at that place. This he seemed to 
regard as a providential discovery intended for the 
especial edification of the missionary meeting ; it having 
of course a very intimate connection with the business in 
hand. Well, after a brief advertence to the main object, 
out came this document, and he began reading the list of 
leaders, &c. First came, as he called him — Nicholas 
Anthony. "What is become of Nicholas Anthony?" 
Somebody said he was called Nathaniel, but this passed 
by. " What is become of him?" he again asked. " He is 
gone to heaven" was the reply. "All well." — "The 

next is T. H. . " What is become of him ? " No 

answer — ^all looking very awful, especially Mr. T. . 

" Is he here ? " No. " Is he in heaven ? " No. " Then 
where is he ? " Nobody spoke. — " Ah, I hope — ^its — all 
— ^right," said Mr. * * * with the feeling of a man who 
finds that he is stepping into a bog. However he made 

one attempt more. "Joseph T. , — ^where is Joseph 

T. ?" Uiere was Joseph, looking as you may sup- 


pose veiy qoeer at bemg haokd mtD poblk notice in dus 
way ; but diere was no answer, and die imfaidqr qnerist 
findii^ from die looks of hisandience dm he was blnn- 
dcTii^ in die daik, desisted from any Imdier inqniiies. 

On Sunday we are to have Dr. Alder here in the morn- 
ing; and Mr. in die evening; and oo the following 

day diere is to be a meeting (a tearmeetin^ for tea is 
now become a mi^ty misrionaiy agent) of die leading 
fcXks of diis and three or four adjoining dronitSy on die 
especial business which has farong^t diem down — to give 
precise infonnation on the finandal state of die migssions, 
and devise means for increasing die ibnds. Considering 
what we have been doing here latdy I almost fed it is 
spmring a free hoise, but shall still be ^bd if die object 

of die Deputation is answered. Mr. is to be my 

gnest Mr. H. tells me that he is an angel ; bat whether 

he is rating Mr. very hig^ or angels very low» 

remains to be discovered by die gendeman's actual 

I have been much interested by your account of Mr. 
P. and should like to fall in his way. The license of his 
conversation, however, rather detracts from the estimate 
I should otherwise have formed of him. We sadly want 
some such men in this county. Conference does not 
give this district all the attention it deserves. 

You will see by the papers that I have been giving <Hie 
of my old lectures lately at Wadebridge, and on Tuesday 
last at Falmouth. The lecture beinga very adcaptandMm 
affair did very well at the former place, but being con- 
sdous of some defects in it I intended recasting it for the 
Falmouth audience. I procrastinated from day to day, 
and at length was obliged to give it without revision 
for want of time, t found, however, on entering die 
Polytechnic Hall that I had a few amcmg my audience 
whose company I could willingly have dispensed widk 


Mr. Croker Fox, the translator of Sophocles, was the chair- 
man, and in the assembly which consisted I think of from 
three to four hundred — ^for even the galleries were half 
filled — ^were several men who looked more at the staple 
of a thought than the mere glitter of the expression. I 
had no alternative, so plunged boldly into the subject, 
and got through it with the best grace I could Within 
two minutes after, up rose a gentleman unknown to me, 
and with the clearest comprehension of the subject, the 
utmost coolness and self-possession, a provoking accuracy 
of memoiy, and the greatest mastery of language I ever 
met with in an extempore effort, he went over the ground 
I had traversed, and took some exceptions so very cleverly 
that with my want of ready utterance I felt it would be best 
to decline a contest He happened to be a Mr. Stirling, 
one of the crack contributors to Blackwood^ a first fiddler 
in the Westminster^ and the author of a volume of elegant 
poems lately reviewed with approbation by the Quarterly y 
— ^an excellent scholar, and so ready a man on all general 
topics, that a gentleman present well acquainted with 
Wordsworth, who I believe is considered a good converser, 
assured me he thinks him very superior in this respect to 
the bard of RydaL Well, all this was very ugly. It 
would not do to fight; it would be still worse to run. 
He had not attempted to shew that any one position I 
took was radically wrong, but insisted on some modifica- 
tions, the making of which instanter called for some nicer 
discriminations than my vocabulary at once afforded. 
So to put the best &ce upon the business I rose and 
complimented him upon the very generous spirit in which 
his remarks had been made, acknowledged my obligations 
for some hints by which to improve the lecture for any 
fiiture occasion, and then expressed my dissent from one 
or two of the least important of his criticisms which he 
could scarcely think it worth while to defend. And so 


the affair ended; it taught me a lesson, however, to 
become more thoroughly master of any subject on which 
I may again venture before such- an audience. 

You receive herewith the two last papers. One of 
them contains an article on the Municipal Election — 2. 

dreary subject The editorship of is passed into the 

hands of one who formerly presided over the journal at 
mouth of the Fal. If his abilities have not improved 
since that period, I hardly think he can do much. I 

asked a gentleman at F the other day about him. 

His answer was, **Sir, he is an imwholesome fellow, — a 
living whitloe." A pleasant man, if this be true. 

Odds and ends of news I have no great budget of 
The Superintendent of Marazion is become insane and 
is placed in an asylum. He had some constitutional 
tendency of the kind, supposed to be aggravated by 
his unhappy collision with the seceding tee-totallers at 
St Ives. Did you know Mr. John Carbis of this town? 
He died yesterday morning, after a long wasting illness. 
He was very highly esteemed and is much regretted. 

I do not know whether any London newspapers reach 
Haverford. If not, it may interest you to know that the 
Queen has given birth to a son, who, as Prince of Wales 
and Duke of Cornwall, must be an object of livelier 
regard to you and me than to the nation generally. You 
are at liberty to make this news public. As soon as you 
can again find an hour to spare — ^without risking the recall 
of any missionaries — ^you cannot employ it better than in 
filling up a sheet or two for my edification. 

Your affectionate Brother, T. G. 

Redruth, 25 Marchy 1845. 
That was rather an awkward remembrancer which you 
cut out of my last, and I scarcely know how it is that my 
pen has of late so seldom pointed towards Haverfoid. 


I suppose it may partly be accounted for by the intellectual 
communication I hold with you through the medium of 
the Herald, The weekly article seems so much like a 
viva voce pronouncement, that one does not feel after 
reading it as if the writer was much estranged; and as we 
are enabled every Monday morning to draw light from 
this golden um, the illumination spreads through the 
week, and the inner eye is thus provided with a banquet 
which serves instead of epistolary supplies. Perhaps, 
however, this is but special pleading for an inexcusable 
neglect; so now to business. 

You asked in your last what had become of the 

affair. I fear there are but ^lint hopes of success. 
Various works have been established in die north, with a 
large outlay, but hitherto there has been no good result 
Experiments have also been carried out on a large scale 
in another quarter, but only with what Mr. Windham 

used to call "negative success." The parties at P 

cling to the sanguine hopes in which they at first indulged, 
and maintain that the efficacy of the process is demon- 
strated, — but it is only so, I fear, by taking that word in 
the non-natural sense. There is no doubt whatever that 
the article in question may be made by their process, but 
it is v^ doubtful whether the expense is less than what 
is incurred on the present system. 

You will probably ask what influence this reverse of my 
hopes has upon myself. Just this much, — I have all along 
avoided any actual risk whatever beyond journeying ex- 
penses and a good deal of time and trouble in correspon- 
dence, &C. Still, I shall lose a fine fortune by the failure. 
The loss, however, will be more easily borne, inasmuch 
as it was a fortune which existed in the imagination only. 
In this way, it sometimes looked a very splendid thing. 
Once or twice there did arise before the " inner eye" a 
rather imposing sort of edifice, with great opulence of 


accommodation, in which too there was a nest of nxmis 
appropriated to yourself, something after the &shion of 
those in the New Place at EUangowan, marked ** Mr. 
Sampson's Apartments." I fear that this is one of my 
numerous day-dreams, for the colors are fading even from 
the &ncy. So for the present I must content myself with 
plowtering about in the fumes of arsenic, and you must 
invigorate your spirit of philosophical resignation by 
dropping your bucket still deeper into the well of the 
Greek sages. The man who sits '' cheek-by-jowl " with 
Homer upon Olympus deems it perhaps an impertinence 
to be mtruded upon by the petty affairs of ordiJnaiy life. 

Anything good in the way of new books? I am 
beginning 'to find that many of the best books are those 
which make the least noise. There is one I have lately been 
reading with much pleasure — ^pleasure of a veryprc^table 
kind — Dr. Reed's '* Advancement of Religion the Claims 
of the Times." It is a half-guinea octavo, which is its 
only fault, and a great &ult it is; for it attaches a kind of 
suspicion to the motives of a man who publishes a book 
which in his conscience he believes to be adapted lor 
general usefulness, at a price which makes it inaccessible 
to thousands and tens of thousands who miglit be gready 
benefited by its perusal It might very well have been 
published for half-a-crown. Should it come in your wayyou 
will be much pleased with it There is alsoaltttle book of 
the right sort lately sent out by Hamilton, the minister of 
the Scots Church in London, called " Life in Earnest," 
published at eighteen-pence. It contains six lectures on 
Christian activity, and is written in a fine, fresh, bracing 
style,— evidently the production of an earnest, indepen- 
dent thinker, whose whole soul is thrown into his subject 
His imagery wiU sometimes remind you of Jeremy Taylor. 
Another book I have lately had is full of touching interest 
Its title is " Perfect Peace," — a memorial of a Mr. 
Howell, a surgeon at Bath, who died a year or two since, 


cut oflf in the flower of life. He was a young man of very 
superior abilities, but upon whose mind religion had no 
vital influence till he was far gone in a consumption. The 
progress of his conversion is minutely detailed by a pious 
clergyman at Torquay, who was his spiritual adviser to- 
wards the close of his life. 

I have just sent off" my subscription to Edinburgh for a 
year's publication of the Free Church Society. Three 
octavo volumes, if worth anything, must come cheap 
enough at four shillings. They have now 47,000 sub- 
scribers. Are you not however feeling the lesson more 
and more strongly impressed as time moves along, 
that the price of a book consists less in the money you 
pay for it than in the time required to read it ? I have 
been tempted often enough to buy books because they 
were to be had for a song, but this temptation is losing 
its force with me. Time is now the real price. I am 
beginning to watch more earnestly the diamond grains as 
they drop through the glass, and to read by the light that 
gleams from them the lesson of mortality. A long heavy 
book brings too much of that weariness of the flesh which 
Solomon speaks of, to be lightly borne. One may wade 
through them in boyhood or young-manhood with some 
celerity, but the mental appetite grows more fastidious 
with years, and demands solid nutrition in whatever is 
offered it 

There is one writer who, partly from his being some- 
what of a metaphysician, and partly also from his having 
a strong tincture of radicalism, (and potential must be the 
strength of any man who could force his way into the 
front ranks of English literature with the inscription " A 
Metaphysical Radical" upon his forehead!) has never 
had the reputation which it seems to me he fairly deserves, 
— I mean Hazlitt I have lately been picking up his 
works, and they are to me a mine of gold. This is not 


such unqualified praise, if the metaphor be properly 
taken, as at first it seems. No ore is so thinly scattered 
as gold, yet when it is to be had at all no mines are so 
valuable. It is just so with Hazlitt You come every 
now and then upon rich fancies and precious truths buried 
among all sorts of crudities, misanthropisms, and para- 
doxes. Without however attempting to analyse his peculiar 
style of writing, — no ordinary task — I fee/ the charm of it 
beyond almost any other. I could go on day after day, 
week after week, month after month, reading an endless 
succession of his books. They could never be too many 
or too long. While I think of it, let me give you a screed 
from his admirable paper — a perfect gem — "My first 
acquaintance with Poets." Speaking of Coleridge, he says, 
C. was one day in a company where some of his &.v(mte 
authors were spoken of slightingly, as men of only small 
talent ''I have no doubt" he said, *^ that they appear so 
to you ; they are so far in advance of you that they are 
dwindled by distance." A pretty piD, that ! 

*Mr. Shoar is now going to the quarterly meeting, and I 
must toddle after him, as the folks are waiting. Our 
deputation is down. Dr. Beaumont preached at Cam- 
borne on Sunday last Next Sunday he is here. Our 
meeting is on Monday. 

Most affectionately yours, T. G. 

Redruth, 5 Au^.^ 1845. 
The splendid burst of poetical inspiration with which 
you prompted me in your last, came in aid of sundry 
twitchings of conscience which I had begun to fed on the 
score of a long hiatus in our correspondence. I suppose, 
however, that a good part of the delay may be fiiiily set 
off against the expectation you led us to indulge of a 
visitation in propria persona at the last vacation. As the 
letter in which you made the intimation left little room 


for doubt, we were all preparing ourselves to encounter, 
with as unblinking optics as we could command, the 
luminous incarnation of the Pembrokeshire Herald, Sel- 
dom have astronomers gazed more intently, while sweeping 
the horizon with their tubes, for some anticipated comet, 
than we directed our looks Devon-ward for the appearance 
of your erratic editorship. It would now be useless to 
recount the hopes and fears, the ingenuities of speculation 
and minute calculations of probabilities, to which that 
tantalizing epistle gave birth ; — how I went to and fro 
between Camborne and Redruth — how railway trains were 
watched — ^how scrutinizing the glances with which coaches 
were eyed — ^how arrangements were made for your spend- 
ing one part of your time at one place and another at 
another — where you were to hold forth the first Sunday 
after you came, and where on the second, — all these 
things, with a variety of subordinate details, as they have 
been shadowed merely by the pencil of fancy, (and the 
visionary lines are already fading into oblivion) need not 
now be recounted as necessary parts of history. Of one 
thing you will no doubt rest comparatively assured, that 
you can be no ordinary man to provoke such lively 
curiosity and set the remotest nook of the island astir 
by the promise of your presence. 

I am glad to see that the concern is progressing 

fairly, and cannot help admiring the courage with which 
you bearded the two proprietary personages in that sport- 
ing affair,— it must have been a scene. How little do we 
dream of the latent qualities of our souls ! You have, 
perhaps, under that grave exterior, the elements of a more 
than military valor. Men are truly said to be made by 
circumstances, and a few such encounters as those might 
serve to draw forth the native energies of your nature and 
prompt to the most darmg exploits. 

The most exciting topics here, for some three or four 


weeks past, have of course been our new appointments, 
among what Mr. B. used to call ''the Methodist hier- 
archy." On the whole, as a district, we have reason to 
be satisfied. The Truro preachers have both a connexional 
reputation which could scarcely have been acquired with- 
out very solid merits. I do not think the allotment of 
superior men to this district is yet made in any fair pro- 
portion to its just claims. Other circuits are entitled to 
much better appointments than they now have ; but it is 
hoped that by getting a more influential management we 
may be able in future to do better. The state of the dis- 
trict requires an infusion of new life in the ministry. We 
are not even at a stand, but retrograding ; and I see no 
human remedy for this but having more attractive men to 
fill our pulpits, and also to carry out our general disci- 
pline more effectively. 

For our own circuit you will see that we have secured 
* * * . He was pledged to Devonport, and the 
people there were greatly disappointed at not having him. 
He was also in request for Spitalfields. We had made no 
engagement with any preacher, but sent our instructions 
to Conference through Mr. H., that * * * must be set 
down for us, — so we have him. The other preacher we 
left to Conference. The first put down was a Mr. Brand- 
reth, now at Frome, but they changed him afterwards for 
Mr. Noall. Of him we know next to nothing, except that 
he is a Gwennap or Crowan man. The other is firom 
Gwinear ; both of them sons of captains of mines. (You 
will remark how euphoniously these plurals run.) So we 
are dependent now upon native produce. 

(To be continued,) 

Redruth, Nov. — , 1845. 
There has been a greater gap in our correspondence 
than I should like to occur again; and it may be accounted 


for partly, I suppose, by the sub-communication which 
I hold with you through the medium of the joiunaL 
Duly as the Monday morning arrives it ushers in that 
illustrious chronicle, generally for the edification of the 
breakfast table; and having thus a supply of your more 
matured thoughts, it would almost look as if any thing 
in the way of epistolary matters must suffer by the 
comparison. You are of course in the usual receipt of 
the W, B,y and will not fail on all suitable occasions 
to make use of it for the purpose of adorning your 
columns with a style of eloquence which I fancy must 
be somewhat rare in Taffyland. These railway advert- 
tisements, by the bye, are a god-send to the press. It 
is too good a thing, however, to last long. The rail- 
way mania, I take it, has been at its height Every 
kind of trick is now being resorted to in order to keep 
up a nominal price for the scoundrel concerns which 
swell the share list to its present serpentine length. I 
met with a gentleman a few days ago, who was just 
returned from town. He had been a few mornings 
before in the office of one of the principal brokers. 
Every man who came there was a holder of railway 
shares, and the place was full of stir and excitement 
But the market was all one way; everybody wanted to 
sell, and nobody wanted to buy. With all its shiftings 
I honor the Times for the bold stand it has taken 
against these swindling schemes. Every journal which 
makes any pretension to respectability of character 
should follow the example. 

I am glad to find that you intend commg home at 
Christmas — at least, so I interpret yoiir notelet of 
yesterday. It is well that you should not make the 
intervals too long between your visits, lest we might 
begin to doubt your identity. It would be awkward 
to have you coming here with a new set of features. 


new voice, with perhaps a spice of French grimace, 
&c., &c., so as to have a wholly new man to deal 
with. You remember Lamb asks Manning, after a long 
absence, why he should come home at all, wandering 
like a struldbrug among people that were all strangers 
to him. I heard one of the B.'s say on Monday that 
)n looking around the Truro chapel the previous evening 
le could see only three faces that he could remember. 
To be sure, stay away as long as you might, you would 
itill find a home in the natural features of the country. 
Cam-Brea and St Agnes Beacon retain their primitive 
appearance and general character. But then you are 
a man, and have human sympathies, and though Time 
might restore to you the mere theatre of your past 
existence, of what avail would this be without the 
living actors? 

"Your heart would yearn, midst all He brought, 
For all he oould not bring." 

Could remarks like the above be duly appreciated, 
they might take their place in a book I saw adver- 
tized a few days since, in the title of which, as it stands 
in the catalogue, the good taste of the vendor is con- 
spicuous, — "A Collection of Sublime, &c, Thoughts." 
Pray give me the earliest intimation if you really in- 
tend dropping down upon us at Christmas, because 
coming to us now in the full blowing of your literary 
dignity you must be treated with more marked distinc- 
tion than an ordinary person. As the conductor of 
that celebrated print you will be entitled to as much 
courtesy as Meg Dods paid " Maister Tirl " after she 
traced his identity, in assigning to him the Red Par- 
lour and the Blue Bed. I think, too, that you would 
tgreeably consult the taste of the young gentlemen 
committed to your charge if you were to give them a 


few days "aboon ordinar." We have now a vast num- 
ber of subjects to discuss in Literature, Poetry, Moral 
Philosophy, History, Philology, Political Economy, Juris- 
prudence, &c., &C., to say nothing of Wesleyan affairs, 
the condition of our various friends and relatives, the 
infinity of small news which has transpired since you 
were last home, and all the nameless et-ceteras which 
crowd upon the mem-ory by the light of the fire-side. 
It will take all Christmas, in my opinion, to get through 
it, if I begin with you as Dominie Sampson began with 
Harry Bertram, in bringing up all arrears from our last 

Your affectionate Brother, T. G. 

Redruth, 5 Aug,y 1842. 

As I wish to imitate the best espistolary models I 
head this sheet with a somewhat similar ornament * 
to that which adorns your letter of the 2nd. Its peculiar 
significance I do not as yet comprehend, but presume 
it bears a latent meaning becoming the known merits 
of the writer. It is only by copying the master-pieces 
of painting that young artists learn to appreciate their 
merits, and it is for the same reason that I venture on 
the above humble attempt It is not nearly so black 
as yours, and it wants too an addition — somewhat like 
the handle of a trowel — ^at the dexter end, which gives 
the original a more picturesque air. I hope, however, 
that you will enlighten me as to the intent of the 
design, for at present I have only some vague feel- 
ing of its imposing effect, without any clear perception 
of the cause. 

You say you do not yet know what to make of 
Wordsworth. Probably not, as you are beginning at 

* A ]aig« blot whiob had aoddentl j got on the paper. 


the wrong end. Try the Excursion first, and if yon 
can make nothing of that, ^' take out your brains,'' as 
Falstatf says, " and butter them, and give them to a 
dog for a new-year's gift." Most of the reading public, 
as they are called, have formed their notions of Words- 
worth from a few light extravaganzas, such as 77ie Thanij 
Goody Blake and Harry Gill, Peter Bell, (although that 
contains some noble verses) &c., &c. ; which is just as 
rational a mode of judging as if one were to attempt 
an estimate of Cowper's genius, who had read only 
Johny Gilpin and the Epistle to Bull, to the exclusion 
of the Task. 

I was going to fill up this sheet, but am happily 
summoned off to bed. I am the more ready to stop 
subitOy as you write so curt. Do you remember that 
you owe me a letter of fifteen pages? I trust this 
does not sit easily upon your conscience. We expect 
to have Mr. Shoar. I have taken a new house for 
him in the Green Lane — a somewhat dashy concern — 
and anticipate some grumbling from the 'country fnends'; 
but K. and G. are resolved to give Methodism a genteel 
air. — Poor Appleby is in great trouble, having lost his 
eldest boy a few days since, almost suddenly. — I have 
had Dr. Cox at our house two or three dajrs. We 
were greatly delighted with him. He is packed full of 
learning, piety, humour, and original thought, and knows 
everything and everybody ; — of course you will take 
this with a slight abatement Stovel, who came with 
him, preached at our chapel — a first-rate sermon. 

Your affectionate Brother, T. G.- 



Redruth, 1846. 

On Wednesday last the new chapel was opened at Hayle. 
It is a beautiful building, holds about 900 on a push, and 
has been completed, I believe, for about as many pounds. 
Mr. Rattenbury came down to open it There was a 
general expectation that admission would be impossible 
for half the number that would attend; in consequence of 
this so many stayed away that the chapel was not filled. 
I was not present The collections I hear have fallen 
short of what was anticipated. 

Are you reading any new books? and if so, what are 
they? I am doing nothing in that way, and what is 
worse, find that as years advance the power of attention 
is weakened, so that it requires a strong effort, which I 
do not make, to fix one's thoughts on any grave subject, 
any important and difficult truth. So I allow myself to 
be taken with just anything that comes in the way, 
content if it be interesting, without very closely enquiring 
why it should be so. Books most to my taste are such 
as prompt to long dreamy reveries, bring back one's child- 
hood, and blend its vague hopes and aspirations with the 
experience of age and the prophecies of the fiiture. Such 
a book I have lately found in the Autobiography of 
Hdnrich Stilling, a thing which defies all criticism, but 
which, if you will read with an intention to be pleased 
with it and to take it simply on its own merits, will afford 
you a high treat I met the other day with a passage in 
Lord Bacon as to the ultimate use of knowledge, which 
(as well as I can blunder through it in the original) 
deserves to be constantly borne in mind. '* Omnium. 


atitemgravissimus error in deviatione ab ultimo doctrincLrum 
fine consistit Appetunt mint omnes scientiam^ alii ex insita 
curiositate et irrequieta; alii animi causa d dekdationis; 
alii contentionis ergOy atque ut in disserendo superiores sint; 
pUrique propter lucrum et victum; paucissimi ut donum 
divinitus datum in usus humani generis impendaniP I was 
foolishly going to add something to this, but it is a gem 
that should shine alone. 

Our Truro poet has again taken the field. (Here you 
see the evil consequences of bu)dng under pretence of 
economy or what not, what the stationers technically call 
" outsides" — this unsightly nibble at the comer of the 
sheet having turned up when the first leaf had been 
written. As you are not a lady it must go.) His in- 
dignation has swelled to poetic frenzy about the May- 
nooth Grant, and he writes in anticipation of the next 
general election. He evidently adheres to Bacon's rule 
of holding, his gifts in trust for the use of his kind I 
enclose his last effusion, which you will I fear use for the 
unworthier purposes his lordship mentions — ^mere selfish 

Our little domestic world is moving on much as usual 

Pray remind your publisher that H ^'s paper is still 

wrongly addressed "Redruth" — by which means she gets it 
very irregularly. Is your subscription list swelling ? How 

are you going to remunerate that Mr. P , who rushes so 

manfully to your assistance in a dearth of advertisements ? 

Your affectionate Brother, T. G. 

Redruth, 9 Mayy 1846. 
Happening to look into "Chambers's" to-day my eye 
was caught by a paper on etiquette, — a subject naturally 
attractive to me — ^in which the writer says, it is one of 
the marks of a true gentleman to answer letters as soon 
as they are received. He gives what I think is a veiy 


good reason for this, — that in conversation it would be 
unbearable, if a person were asked a question, to delay 
an hour or two in answering it instead of replying at once. 
The application of this to letter-writing I need not point 
out to your Welsh understanding. I so entirely agree 
with the canon that I proceed at once to answer your 
last, or rather to acknowledge it, for I do not recollect 
that it contained anything requiring a special reply. 

Our attention has mostly been taken up of late here by 
various doings in the Methodistical world. First, there 
was our deputation — Messrs. O. and J. The latter was 
my guest from the Friday evening to the following 
Tuesday — 2. pretty good slice out of the whole time. He 
is a capital fellow. You, I think, have not seen him. 
He is about 33, short, fat, burly, and still, it appears, on 
the increase laterally — a bad symptom for so young a 
man. Of hiunor he is the very soul, — that is, when he 
finds himself quite at home as he did here. We had 
a pleasant time of it during his stay. His doings are 
somewhat peculiar. He goes to bed very late and rises 
very early. He manages pretty well, he says, by going to 
bed at two and rising about six or seven. Men seem to 
differ wonderfully in this respect I should like to get a 
lesson from him. It would be as good as ten years 
added to one's life. On the night of our meeting he 
sat up till one, when he walked off to his room with a 
bundle of books, and early in the morning was as fresh 
as a lark. — He has budgets of stories, one of which I 
must give you. The Misssionary Hunt, now at Fiji, 
was converted under his ministry. He was a coarse, 
clod-hopping youth at first, but rapidly improved, and 
seems now to be every way a respectable man. Shortly 
before he left for his present station he was at a mission- 
ary meeting, and got so much excited while telling the 
people of his going to Fiji, that forgetting the narrow 


limits of the unrailed platform on which the speaJcers 
stood, he stepped right over it, and came down into the 
lap of a covey of people wedged in a seat below. This 
little incident disturbed the gravity of the people, to 
restore which the chairman — a solemn personage — gave 
out, " Praise God, from whom all blessings flow ! " 

Of the other member of the deputation I saw but 
little; but that little seemed to confirm the opinion I 
have always had of him, and which I believe is general, — 
that he is one of the most truly excellent men in our con- 
nexion. His spiritual-mindedness is visible in the whole 
of his conversation and deportment Some of his lighter 
brethren think he carries things rather too far. 

On the other deputation we had W. and A. I was 
with them at only one meeting, the state of my mission- 
ary exchequer being such that I found it convenient this 
year to attend but one anniversary on each deputation. 
The Truro meeting just escaped being a failure altogether. 
Previous to its commencement the time of the speakers 
was allotted to them. M. was to have one quarter hour. 
W. half ditto, Y. half ditto, and A. three quarters. M. 
took ten minutes, W. took the odd five in addition to his 
own. Mr. Y. then waived his right — against the loud 
calls of the audience — ^in favor of A., who exerted himself 
to the utmost and restored the assembly to moderately 
good humor. Must close for the present 

Your affectionate Brother, T. G. 

Redruth, \*i July^ 1846. 
You will receive herewith certain documents fixjm which 
you must infer a rapid growth in the intellectual accom- 
plishments of this locality. First, no less than a monthly 

magazine in which Mr. is first fiddler, and the 

Revs. and — — the principal coUabaratmrs, Next, 


a weekly newspaper started in this town, the leading 

article of which is from the pen of . It is not yet 

decided when we are to have a Quarterly Review. A 
hint of the thing to Murray may probably induce him to 
come down handsomely, and so quash that project in 
embryo. Next week also you may expect to see the 
West Briton in a dress in which its oldest friends will 
hardly recognize it A thirty-two columned sheet, of 
length proportionate, will on Friday shed a flood of 
knowledge, wit, and wisdom, from the Land's End to the 
Tamar. The fact is, that old things will not do here any 
longer. We are mad for the march of mind, moral 
perfectibility, and all that sort of thing. Nothing will go 
down but Shakspeare, Taste, and the Musical Glasses. 
In the past week we have had lectures here on all creation. 
Two nights were devoted to the subject by the lecturer — 
the Solar and Stellar Systems, the Nebulae, &c, were all 
explained by means of diagrams upon a screen, a series 
of dissolving views, and with the accompaniment of an 
accordion played by a Jew. You had better pack up at 
Haverfordwest and come into a country where there is 
really something to be known, — ^where existence is a 
dignified thing, where the great purposes of being are 

You are, if I remember rightly, in arrear to me a long 
letter, so the sooner you discharge the debt the better. 
"Owe no man anything," is an admirable maxim in 
every sense. 

My recollections of our brief interview at Haverford 
are very pleasant I don't wonder at your having a strong 
attachment to the place. I could soon make up my mind 
to live there for — say 200 or 300 years — in such society 
as you are faCVored with. 

Your affectionate Brother, T. G. 


Redruth, 1846. 

I shall begin by saying that we had a meeting on 
Tuesday last to bid farewell to Mr. . I had previ- 
ously thought that his long and faithful services entitled 
him to some special mark of kind consideration, and 
suggested to a few friends the propriety of acting accord- 
ingly. Everybody agreed in the estimate of his worth, 
but it was generally supposed (and I now think, justly) 
that from precedents of this kind difficulties might arise 
which it would be better to avoid. So it finally settled 
down into a tea-meeting. About 260 persons attended. 
The good towns-folk kept an eye to the main /chance on 
this occasion, and issued the tickets at one and sixpence 
each, the proceeds being applicable to the new building 
they have in hand. Mr. Y. behaved most handsomely. 
He furnished the provisions for all the tables at his own 
expense. There was not however so good a mustering of 
friends from the adjoining circuits as I had expected. Still 
it went off pretty well. Very warm testimonies of respect 
and affection were offered to the departing minister, and 
what was wanting in eloquence was made up in cordiality. 
Mr. had quite enough to do to keep himself com- 
posed. The Sunday morning previously he had given his 
farewell sermon — the house crowded in every part He 
could scarcely get through the service, and he does, I 
believe, feel very acutely at leaving the county. 

We are very much gratified by our appointments here. 

Mr. N preached his first sermon on Sunday morning, 

— ^plain, clear, artd tolerably energetic His appearance 
is very respectable, his manner kind and courteous, and on 
the whole he seems likely to maintain a good standing in 
the regards of the people. His colleague was no stranger 
to us, but he has evidently been striving 'diligently for 
self-improvement He exceeds my expectations as a 
thinker, and his style is exceedingly good, while his 


manner is very impressive. There are few men for whom 

I would change him. Mrs. N is the best specimen 

of a preachers wife that I have seen; a sunny-tempered, 
good-hearted, and most lady-Hke woman. I anticipate a 
considerable increase to our congregation. 

Last night we had a tea-meeting at Black-water. The 
people there have burnished up their little chapel, and at 
an expense of about fifty or sixty pounds have so trans- 
mogrified it that you would hardly guess it to be the same 
fabric. Well, nothing can be done but by drinking tea ; 
so an announcement was made for yesterday at half-past 
four, the time being certainly early enough for the 
occasion. I took our superintendent over, and on enter- 
ing the house was surprised at the tasteful appearance it 
presented. The tables were very well provided, a plat- 
form erected, — carpetted every inch — ^festoons of ever- 
greens stretched across the chapel, jugs filled with flowers 
placed along the foot of the platform, flowers around the 
table, flowers around the candle-stick, flowers on the table 
before the chairs, — in short, the whole place wearing very 
much the appearance of a floricultural exhibition. The 
tea was a very protracted affair, for it was half-past seven 

when the oratorical business commenced. Mr. W 

was called to the chair. You know the uncommon 
modesty of that gendeman. He professed himself ready 
to go in the chair or behind the chair, or to speak long or 
short, precisely as the people might wish. I must do 
him the justice to say diat he acquitted himself on the 
whole remarkably well. The first of our speakers was a 
shoemaker of the neighbourhood, a son of my old school- 
master. He fancies he has a taste for metaphysics, and 
for about twenty minutes kept the audience staring by 
uttering, what in an ordinary dress might be considered 
good common sense thoughts, but which, in the inflated 
style for which he is indebted to some metaphysical 


books, wore a rather ludicrous aspect Then came one 
or two plain men of the district, followed by your humble 
servant, and then our new super. One part of the 
arrangement was very pleasant. A bunch of evergreens 
hung down just before my face in speaking, and when I 
wanted to rally my thoughts for a minute or two, I could 
avoid the faces of my audience by availing myself of this 
leafy screen. Such a provision for timid speakers at 
public meetings would be a capital thing. A man, when 
a little hard up for an idea, by just pushing his face into 
the foliage, might rapidly collect his thoughts and come 
forth with renewed inspiration from his ostrich-like seclu- 
sion. Turn over this in your mind, and you may be able 
perhaps to make the Principality your debtor by intro- 
ducing it into use there. 

(To be continued.) 

Redruth, 28 July^ 1846. 
I do not understand upon what principle I am to 
count that undelivered letter as reckoning one in our cor- 
respondence. It was a fine thing, no doubt, — full of wit 
and wisdom, and so forth, as seems to be indicated by its 
not being forthcoming. I rather suspect it was a dull 
affair. I do not now, however, ask to disturb its repose, 
nor to deprive it of the charm of secrecy, probably the 
only charm belonging to it Let it take its place with 
the last fragments of antiquity; I seek not to dive among 
the treasures of that deep. 

My hopes do not keep pace with yours about the 
Redruth newspaper. I shall be rather pleased if it does 
not succeed. First, because no such journal is wanted, — 
secondly, because it may do some harm to the \V. B, 
As to editorship we are better agreed. They wanted 
me to edit it at first I firmly but respectfidly declined 
the honor. Then they applied to me for you. About 


that time there were wild rumors of your coming down 
— neighbourhood in great excitement, &c I told them 
that when you came they would confer with you; but 
your not making your appearance frustrated all that 

So now it has passed into Mr. B 's hands. He 

says his chief inducement is, the hope of elevating the 
tone of public feeling, constructing a more orthodox 
code of political morality, &c., &c. In short, we old 
stagers are to be eclipsed in the light of a political 
millennium brought in by this powerful organ. We 
shall see. 

The price of the magazine * is threepence, — ^no doubt 
modest enough. My hopes of it are by no means 
sanguine. I am in for one contribution notwithstand- 
ing your solemn warning, — ^no time fixed. The title 
is very unmeaning to me, but is intended, I believe, to 
imply an antagonistic relation to the old lady on the 
Seven Hills. In what way it is to be brought about 
I don't know, but they mean to upset her altogether. 
Macaulay will regret this, because his fine image of the 
sketcher on the broken arch of London Bridge must 
go in the smash. 

W had a narrow escape on Saturday last In 

coming from Portreath a part of the traces broke, just 
opposite Pearce's, and the horse took fright- The boy 
took fright as well, and crouched in the bottom of the 
gig. The horse kept on at the top of his speed through 
Bridge and up the ascent by Mr. Trounce's, when he 
was pulled up for breath and laid hold of. 

We are just now meditating the possibility of a 
remove from Redruth. Mr. H. intends leaving Fair- 
field, and going to Exeter. Should he migrate he will 
give me the option of his house, &c, either to buy or 

* Cwnitk Banner, 


rent If I go there at all I shall buy it The whole 
affair is in embryo, and rather a subject for the imagina- 
tion than the more business-like faculties at present 

A cargo of divines sailed from Hayle this morning for 
the Conference. The weather is glorious, and I am 
glad they have so &ir a passage. This day also is for 
the meeting of the Committee, which I should have 
attended, but somehow as the time drew nigh sundry 
small impediments gathered round me, and here I am. 
There is something, also, which strikes me as rather 
absurd in a layman going to Conference at alL To 
the Conference, in &ct, he does not go; he merely 
goes to Bristol while the Conference is being held there. 
** He is not a Roman, but an Italian of Rome." It seems 
to me no very rational mode of spending a week, to 
be kicking one's heels all day about the streets, going 
to some chapel in the evening, shaking hands with 
some twenty or thirty preachers, and picking up odd 
bits of news as to what ^may have transpired in the 
course of the day in a secret assembly the proceedings 
of which ought not to transpire at all. Yet I am not 
certain that I shall not run up on Saturday next to 
spend three or four days after this sensible &shion. 

Give my kindest respects to Mrs. P., and say that 
I retain a very lively recollection of her hospitality. It 
would give me much pleasure to return it in a more 
substantial form than thanks. Your friend W. P., if 
he has continued oozing away at the rate we saw him 
when in Wales, must long since have disappeared. 

Affectionately yours, T. G. 

Redruth, 4 At^., 1846. 
I hinted in my last that there was a possibility of 
our migrating to Fairfield The move is no longer a 
conjectural one. Mr. H. and I agreed yesterday that I 


should take it I am to have the house, with about 
three acres of plantation and shrubbery, and ten acres 
of meadow. So I am now to become on a small scale, 
arboriculturist, florist, and horticulturist As I am very 
comfortable here, the prospect of moving has no charms 
for me in itself; but I have had for some time a sort 
of penchant for a house of my own and also for a 
litde elbow room about it, within which nobody else 
could intrude. This possessory feeling I suppose comes 
on with years. If it is an evil one it has been happily 
checked in me by that ''unspiritual god" whom Byron 
so energetically apostrophizes; and now that his god- 
ship has favored me to this extent I am quite willing 
to forego any further territorial aggrandisement for the 
rest of my life. 

With what a plastic power the mind accommodates 
itself to circumstances ! — a remark which I think some- 
body has made before, but the force of which is only 
fully felt by experience. A few days ago nothing was 
farther from my thoughts than a move of this kind. But 
already I am deep in clover and turnips, drawing nice 
distinctions between guano and town dung, and weigh- 
ing the comparative merits of long-horns and short 
The grazier spirit bums within me. I am beginning, 
too, to think that Government has been too rash about 
the corn-laws. Vague fears are coming over me that 
««^— the agricultural interest — have been betrayed by 
the slippery Sir Robert There is a fatal brevity in 
the len-^illing slide. I thought the other day of 
subscribing a guinea to the Cobden Testimonial, but I 
am hesitating now. It seems like turning a grinding-stone 
to a knife for cutting one's own throat I am looking 
more fevorably than I did upon the Duke of Richmond. 
His speeches seemed to me at first like the bellowings 
of a bull-calf, (you observe that my images now are 


instmctively agricultural) but as their echoes die upon 
my ears I catch prophetic tones in them. My sym- 
pathies go now with the ''country party.** Depend 
upon it, these men are destined to be the saviours of 
the state. 

You must make up your mind to come down at 
Christmas without &iL I shall want you a week or 
two to lend a hand at hoeing ruta-bagas, — a nice litde 
job which may go on without interruption to philoso- 
phic thought, and will thus enable you to blend the 
man of business with the scholar. When the day 
declines it will be an agreeable occupation to spend 
an hour or two by candle-light in cutting out the eyes 
of potatoes for seed. From tasks like these you will 
go back to your locality better accomplished for con- 
ducting the agricultural department of the Herald. 

I send you this letter on the presumption that what 
interests one's self must be interesting to you. So no 
more at present from yours affectionately, T. C— ^ 

Redruth, 26 Sept^ 1846. 

On looking at your last letter I find it has no date; 
so it is of course out of my power to say whether 
there has been any great delay on my part in replying. 
It is convenient for a lazy fellow like me not to have 
this standing remembrance. 

I find by your letter to mother that you have been 
laid by with some epidemic, but are now recovered 
from it; at which — like the ladies in Uie Vicar oj 
Wakefidd — ^we are very sorry and very glad You have 
on the whole kept very clear of the doctor's clutches, 
and may compound for this slight acquaintance with 

We are still here. Mr. H. is packing his furniture, 
which goes off by an Exeter vessel on Monday. As 
soon as word comes of his furniture being at that port, he 


and his family will turn out of Fairfield^ and we with our 
numerous flock will turn in. H. P., who has spent so 
much of his life in that most unfortunate of mines. Wheal 
Clarence, is to reside at Fairfield as prime minister in the 
Agricultural Department I trust his agricultural doings 
will be more successful than his mining ones, or things 
will get on badly. We are to keep four cows, so when 
you come down you may have milk three times a day, 
with draughts between. 

I am glad to hear that you are in such pleasant 
lodgings, and can sympathize with your feelings of 
complacency as to the furniture of your room, &c., all of 
which seems to be in good keeping with a literary taste. 
Your epicurean gusto I cannot so fully enter into. I 
confess to a moderate liking for the good things of the 
table, but Quin or Kitchener could scarcely have rapturized 
in higher style than that in which you describe Mrs. £.'s 
larder. Remember that after all, eating and drinking are 
but animal pleasures, and it would fill me with melancholy 
to think that you were allowing the intellectual and 
spiritual part of your being to be subordinated to the 
gratifications of sense. A captivity of this kind does 
not take place at once, and you may yet have sufficient 
energy of principle to rescue yourself firom the insidious 
foe. If so, mind, you must not parley ; down with 
the flesh-pots at a stroke. Stick for a month or two to 
vegetable diet — say carrots or turnips — ^if merely to satisfy 
yourself that you have power over the tempter. The self- 
respect whidi such a victory will give you will amply 
compensate the temporary privation. When you write 
be explicit on this subject 

We have lately had rather a strange exhibition at our 
house. I had a visitor from Plymouth, who pracdses as 
a mesmerist One evening at tea the subject was started, 
and a young lady present volunteered to be mesmerised 
Our visitor went to work, and in about half an hour tl 


coma was induced He thought her a good subject, and 
the next evening repeated the experiment After she was 
thrown into a profound insensibility he requested that the 
piano might be played It appears she is fond of danc- 
ing, and just as Uie music struck up she rose from her chair 
and danced to it — ^a waltz. A quadrille was then played, 
which she also danced out, — then a polka, and this she 
also danced through, another lady present being her part- 
ner. A favorite tune of hers was then sung. She join^ in 
it, and sung it to the close. During all the time — about an 
hour — ^her eyes were closed and her features fixed When 
she was demesmerised she professed to be totally uncon- 
scious of all that had occurred since the coma had come 
on, except that she had a faint recollection of hearing 
music. Of the dancing and singing she had no impres- 
sion whatever. There can be no doubt of her veracity, 
as we know her to be an innocent artless girL An even- 
ing or two after, the experiment was repeated with the 
same results. What say you to these things? They 
transcend my philosophy. 

Our Mr. N., who has lately had a slight attack of 
paralysis, and had gone to Bristol for a short time, is 
returned in improved health. Mr. G. is very well, and 
retains his popularity in the Circuit One of the new 
appointments here is said to be a very good one, — a 
Mr. Hetherington, who is stationed for TuckingmilL 
He is spoken of as a very superior man, — a thing tdiich 
one would hardly augur from finding him down for that 

circuit. I forget, however, that Mr. has also honored 

it with his services. 

Mr. H. goes to Exeter as a timber merchant The 
price of the Banner is threepence. These things have 
no natural connexion, but are answers to some queries 
of yours. 

Your affectionate Brother, T. G.- 


Fairfield, 12 March, 1847. 

It seems an unconsciously long time since I have heard 
from you. You have in perfection the ghost-like quality 
of speaking only when you are spoken to. Or is it that 
your senses are still steeped in the fiimes of that bac- 
chanalian revel which you spoke of in your last letter to 
Camborne ? Tka/ must have been a nice affair for a man 
of your natural gravity and ofRcial obligations to moder- 
ation and all the cardinal virtues. Did the Leaders' 
Meeting take cognizance of it? Or are you struck off 
the Plan ? Or what other consequences have followed ? 
Pray let me know what is your social status at this 

So many things have occurred since we interchanged a 
sheety that I am puzzled at what point to plunge into 
them. The greatest event in relation to myself has been 
a journey to London. I spent about ten days in the 
great Babel — more than ever a Babel since my sequestra^ 
tion — ^no, that is'nt the word, it means impounding — 
sequesterment, is that right ? in this quiet nook. I am 
on the whole much gratified by my coming hither. One 
advantage of it is — one great advantage — ^that one^s days 
are not cut up into fragments incommensurate with any 
serious engagement — composition, a book requiring 
continuous attention, a friend whose society one wishes 
to make the most of— and the like. Even in a small 
town like Redruth the perpetual calling of all sorts of 
people upon all sorts of business becomes very worrying. 
You remember Lamb's complaint, when he lived in 
Russell Street, that he could never be allowed to be 
simply Charles Lamb, but was compelled to be Charles 
Lamb & Co. Talking of Lamb, I am reminded of a 
trifle or two which Leigh Hunt reports of him, which may 
be new to you. He was one evening at a card-table with 
a man whose hands were very dirty. Lamb, whose habits 

3^8 MSMOm OF 

were scrupulously nice, said to him " If dirt were trumps, 
sir, what hands you would hold !".,.. A bit 
about Coleridge, from the same quarter, is worth noting. 
He was one day speaking of the delight with which 
Bowyer, one of the masters of the Blue-Coat school, felt 
in flogging. "It was fortunate," said he, "that die 
cherubim who came to convey him to heaven were made 
up of heads and wings, or he would have amused himself 
with flogging them by the way." Going back to my 
London trip, it was remarkable for nothing but two 
small disappointments. One was, that in the veiy hotel 
at which I was staying a meeting was held one evening, — 
a tea-meeting, which generally has a charm for me — at 
which Dr. Alder, Rattenbury, and several other men 
worth knowing and pleasant to meet and hear, were 
present without my having any knowledge of it My 
first information on the subject came the next day from 
a lady with whom I was dining in Aldersgate. Disap- 
pointment number two was in my hearing the celebrated 

Dr. of Dublin, who preached in Algernon Wdls's 

chapel at Clapton. Wells is to me one of the most 
interesting of preachers. Of hearing him I was disip- 
pointed in the first place, and then the more so, tliat 
Dr. delivered one of the most arid discourses con- 
ceivable. How he has won his way to fame I cannot 
imagine. There was no trace of a superior mind in 'he 
performance in question. The " locals" could do as wdL 

Now for such news as I can give you. P has had 

a seizure — a kind of paralysis. He is confined to his bed, 
and it is doubtfiil whether he will ever quit it He has 
scarcely any strength in his legs ; otherwise, his general 
health is not bad. His sleep and appetite are good, aid 
he sufiers no pain. He professes to have serious feelings, 
but I am afiraid he is miserably dark. He told me tbe 
other day that he felt much interested in hearing the 


Scriptures read, and ''took the promises" to himself 
very readily. 

You have heard I suppose of the Revival at Truro. 
Five hundred have been added to the town society; 
and it is still going on. I never heard of such a work 
so admirably conducted. No noise, no extravagance, 
nothing to aiOford ground for gainsaying. The preachers 
have steadily devoted themselves to it, and have them- 
selves been greatly benefited. In the circuit generally 
it has not spread much, — ^a little at Probus, and, I 
think, at Newlyn. — At •Redruth there is now pretty 
much sensation. The chapel is open every evening, 
and about one hundred have been added, but upon 
many of them not much reliance can be placed. I am 
told that in Truro there has not been a single case of 
declension. The disorders at Redruth are very sad. 

I saw mother on Wednesday. She improves a little, 
but I fear that her sight is permanently weakened. 

Affectionately yours, T. G. 

P.S. I met with a little story the other day, so 
good, that at the risk of telling you stale news, I must 
send it When Waller, the poet, waited on Charles 
the Second, on his restoration, with some complimen- 
tary verses, the king read them, and said, — "You 
wrote better verses than these for Cromwell." "Please 
your Majesty," said Waller, "we poets always succeed 
better in fiction than in truth."* 

Another story, not quite so good. Our chapel at P. has 
lately been newly burnished. While in the tradesmen's 

hands the folks there had the use of Dr. 's chapeL 

It put our Locals a little upon the stretch, doing their 
very best before such a congregation. Among others, 
* * * * was to preach, and had prepared, I believe, 
with more than usual care. He got on pretty well so 
£tf as the text, and then stuck fast The sermon had 


made to itself wings and flown away. He talked ten 
minutes about no one knew what, and then closed — ^then 
gave out a hymn, and before finishing one verse went to 
another — then tried to pray and could not To make 
amends for this he gave them a capital sermon last week 
on what my informant calls '' the mortality of the sooL" 

Fairfield, 27 May^ 1347. 

I suppose you came to the right conclusion about the 
journal. B— — wrote me a day or two after I sent yoa 
my letter, that on thinking more about the matter there 
was a fear that your want of sympathy with the politics of 
the paper would be a fatal bar. I do not think such a 
position could be well maintained, and the affair must 
therefore go by. You had better try to dulciiy your 
creed and embrace the true feith. The way will then be 
open for you. 

Your holidays not being far off, I am beginning to 
look forward to your coming home. Tiy to make your 
arrangements to get away as soon as possible. You have 
heard I suppose of mother's decay of sight I fear it is 
a hopeless case. She cannot now distinguish any object 
— ^just knows in what part of the room the windows are 
situate; nothing more. She bears the privation with 
great fortitude. Besides this, she is afflicted with rheu. 
matism, and on the whole has suffered much throu^out 
the winter. We hope to get her over here a week cm* two 
to spend some time. I do not like the idea of her living 
in a town with loss of sight, and am anxious to get h^ 
more pleasantly located. 

Last week we held our District Meeting in Redruth, at 
which a considerable change was made in the boundaries 
of our circuit Tuckingmill is extinguished as a circuit 
Perranwell is also swamped, being merged in Gwennap. 
Several places are given to Helstone from the Hayle 


circuit Redruth remains as at present, with the exception 
of taking Wheal Busy. On the whole there will be one 
preacher less in the district Camborne will be now one 
of the best circuits in the West of England, and will have 
three preachers. We have a decrease of 595 members in 
the district for the past year. A good deal of this is 
owing to emigration. 

The latest accounts from * * * are very favorable. 
He says the revolution does not affect them at all at the 
mines, and that everything is going on as pleasantly with 
him as could be desired. He is sending home good 
supplies of cash, a proceeding which is regarded here in 
a very favorable light 

P. continues much as when I wrote, — if any change, 
rather weaker. We have sad times with our poor, owing 
to the excessive price of com, but the calamity is borne 
with much patience, and I trust we shall be able to 
weather on till harvest The weather is now glorious, 
and all kinds of crops most promising. Except in St 
Agnes, which is the Skibbereen of Cornwall; employ is 
abundant, so that the half-a-loaf may be calculated upon 
to a certainty. 

Your affectionate Brother, T. G. 

Fairfield, 8 November^ 1847. 
I am rather tired — ^my eyes sore with writing — and 
altogether in a very unepistolaiy condition. But for some 
time it has been lying upon my conscience that I have 
been very neglectful of you. And though I do not know 
why you should exact a strict reciprocity from me in our 
correspondence, yet there is just as little reason why I 
should allow four months to pass without writing you. 

My last was written when I was in London, and had 
some thoughts of being able to see you in Bristol. Did 
you look about for me on the Quay there ? If so, the 


reason for your not seeing me is that I was still in town. 
The affair about which I went up lingered on most pro- 
vokingly for six weeks. Since that, I have been up again 
about a fortnight, and I suppose I must go once more — 
probably about the middle of next month. Whether a 
thousand pounds, as you modestly request, will find its 
way into your pocket, time alone can telL I rather think 
not; perhaps ^200 or ^300 may be nearer the maik, 
and for a bird in the hand you might compound for 
something less. At present we are engaged in completing 
our /i//^, about which there are some legal difficulties, in 
consequence of foreigners not being allowed by the U. S. 
laws to become owners of land. I believe, however, that 
the only practical difficulty is the delay thus occasioned, 
and that two or three months will see the matter dosed. 

The most important piece of news I have for you is 
that Dr. BuUmore has operated on mother's eyes to 
destroy the cataracts, and I hope there is a &ir prospect 
of her sight being at all events partially restored. She 
has been at Truro about five weeks, and will probably 
remain imder his care a week or two longer. That her 
sight will be quite restored I can hardly allow myself to 
hope, but BuUmore assures us that the case is on the 
whole a very hopeful one. She did not suffer much pain — 
not more than attends the drawing of a tooth? the time 
about 4}4 minutes. It was very skilfiilly done. 

Our family seems destined to be migratory. Some are 
removed to Penzance, some to Camborne. Mother and 

C go to Penzance, as I understand, as soon as they 

return from Truro. I hope when I write next to be able 
to send you a correct list of all their addresses. You 
have heard of course of P.'s death. It happened during 
my absence in town. He was almost insensible firom the 
time of his last seizure — some three or four days before 
he died — ^to the close. 


I axD about becoming somewhat more of a gentleman 
than I could wish to be, in consequence of the present 
company giving up the United Hills mine. This is the last 
month of my connection with them. I stick to Wheal 
Ellen, with my old comrades Boundy and Hawke. They 
tell me the mine will last out our time, so we congratulate 
ourselves on having a snug settlement there. 

With this you will receive a paper giving an account of 
some very wonderful proceedings at the opening of a 
Literary Institution at St. Just, — which news might have 
been a little fresher if sent you at the time. This affair 
has given an impulse again to the Redruth folks, who 
seemed determined to have an institution there at last 
I had to give the first lecture there last week, and about 
300 persons attended, which looked well for a start I 
suppose they will do something if they get some men of 
weight to take the lead 

Your affectionate Brother, T. G.- 



Several years had passed since the pen of the journalist 
was employed in opposing the high church pretensions of 
men who, arrogating to themselves all priestly power 
and authority, were better satisfied to be lords over the 
heritage than ensamples to the flock. The agitation 
which took place in the Wesleyan church in '49 and suc- 
ceeding years furnished the writer with an occasion for 
shewing that hatred of ecclesiastical domination is not 
inconsistent with a due regard to legitimate authority and 
with a real abhorrence of that democratic spirit which in its 
zeal for liberty subverts all necessary order and discipline. 
To the Wesleyan readers of these pages any remarks as 
to the origin and consequences of this agitation will be 
needless, but to others who have but a very partial 
knowledge of the proceedings referred to, a brief notice 
of the circumstances which brought more prominently 
before the Wesleyan community the author of *' Letters 
on the recent agitations in Wesleyan Methodism," can 
hardly be dispensed with. If private feelings alone were 
to be consulted, they would rather — ^for the present at 
least — ^throw a veil over these transactions ; but although 
this is not practicable, the details will be dwelt upon no 
farther than is necessary for illustrating the following cor- 

For some years previous to the time now mentioned, 
a series of publications called " Fly Sheets " had at 
different intervals been circulated through the connexion, 
in the pages of which some of the most distinguished 
^ ministers among the Wesleyans were held up to public 
ridicule and reproach, and were freely charged with 



almost every iniquity which could disgrace them as 
ministers or legislators in the churcL These '' Sheets " 
professed to emanate from a society established for the 
very laudable object of correcting abuses which had crept 
into the administration of Methodism, and they were 
sent by post, free of expense, to the ministers and in- 
fluential members of the Wesleyan community, that their 
eyes might be opened to see the glaring enormities per- 
petrated in high places, and what the professed servants 
of the church were daily doing under the mask of great 
piety and zeal for the public good. No writer's name 
was attached to these publications; no printer's name 
appeared on the pages ; and they were forwarded from 
localities where the post-mark could give no clue as to 
where the head-quarters of this reforming society might 
be found. Their " Fly-sheets," as they issued from time 
to time, were read with wonder and amazement by persons 
who in a thousand cases hardly knew what to believe or 
what to disbelieve; but by those whose position enabled 
them to weigh their merits they were known to be little else 
than a mixture of distorted facts and palpable falsehood. 
The dissemination of such documents through a large 
and wide-spread religious body, the majority of whom 
had small means of estimating the value of tiie informa- 
tion thus brought before them, and who now saw the men 
whom they had regarded with highest admiration held 
up to them as patterns of vice and hypocrisy, could 
not be otherwise than mischievous beyond conception. 
The worst feature in the whole affair was, that it was 
the work not of an enemy without, but of an enemy 
within. That such was the fact there could be no 
question. The intimate knowledge of the Wesleyan 
system which these writings exhibited, as well as their 
acquaintance with a vast number of particulars respecting 
the public and private life of the individuals tiiey so 


violently and mercilessly attacked, was pnx>f demonstra- 
tive — to say nothing of various other internal evidences 
— ^that they were the work of Wesleyans; and there 
were not wanting reasons to shew that they were the 
production of men who were not only Wesleyans but 
Wesleyan ministers, who had made this cowardly attack 
upon their brethren with a virulence and malignity not 
known to writers who at times had assailed Methodism 
in its general economy, without caring to meddle with 
the character of its office-bearers. Hostility from with- 
out, however fierce or unscrupulous, was nothing more 
than might be prepared for, — ^might be patiently borne 
or calmly repelled by such weapons as the armouxy of 
Truth can furnish ; but this treason within, the work of 
those who were called brethren in the ministry, was 
altogetlier exceptional. In the mere fact that the Fly- 
sheets were anonymous publications there was nothing 
essentially worthy of condemnation. It was certainly 
conceivable that any individual among the Wesleyans, 
whether lay or clerical, might think that the expression 
of his views on various Methodistic subjects, and even 
on the conduct of various public men in Methodism, 
might do some good service. If his arguments were 
fairly and candidly stated,' the giving or withholding 
of his name could not morally affect them. If his 
facts were capable of being substantiated, and were 
given in a manner that shewed no wish but that of 
serving the cause of truth and righteousness, whatever 
difference of opinion might exist as to the wisdom or 
expediency of some of these revelations, of any low or 
unworthy motive he might yet be universally acquitted 
But here were daggers drawn in the dark by men who 
dared not shew their faces in the daylight; by men who 
were known to be disappointed and mortified persons, 
and who, under the wretched pretence of exposing 


religious abuses, had proceeded to vilify the characters 
of those whose well-earned honor and influence in 
Wesleyan Methodism was the object of their inveterate 

In relation to the course pursued on this occasion, we 
may not do better than quote from an authority which 
has succinctly given the whole case. '^ From the origin 
of Wesleyan Methodism it has been an established and 
recognized practice to subject every one of its ministers 
to an 'annual examination as to his doctrinal sentiments 
and teaching, his moral and religious character, and his 
practical attention to the discipline of the Connexion. 
Inquiries on these several points are partly proposed to 
each man personally, and pardy to his colleagues and 
brethren ; and it was resolved in the present instance (at 
the annual Wesleyan Conference, in 1849,) to put the 
question candidly and direcdy to each of the suspected 
parties, whether or not he was concerned in the com* 
position or circulation of the anonymous and defamatory 
pamphlets which had so seriously disturbed the peace of 
the body. This inquiry produced an effect similar to that 
which, according to Milton, was produced by the spear 
of Ithuriel : — 

. . . ' For no falsehood oan endure 
Touch of celestial temper, but returaa 
Of force to its own likeness.* " 

''When this question was proposed to the man who 
was believed to have taken the lead in this scheme of 
mischief, he said, ' Why is this question proposed to me, 
rather than to the other ministers of the body?' ' Because 
imiversal suspicion falls upon you,' was the answer; which 
was echoed by a loud response from every part of the 
Conference, consisting of four or five hundred ministers, 
ail of whom at that moment fixed their eyes upon him. 


' I will not answer that question,' was his reply ; ^ I will 
submit to expulsion rather than answer it' " 

''Time was given him for consideration; he was ex- 
postulated with, and invited again to meet the men to 
whom he had long stood in the relation of a brother, 
and either acknowledge his sin or declare his innocence. 
But he was inflexible, and would never again meet the 
eyes which were fastened upon him when he was required 
to give an answer to a plain matter of fact ; thus in effect 
declaring that while he claimed their confidence and affec- 
tion as a friend and a brother, and as such, took a part 
in their work and sat in their assemblies, he would not 
deny that he was a secret and determined enemy both to 
them and their proceedings. He was therefore neces- 
sarily severed from a Connexion of which he had rendered 
himself unworthy ; for what sane minister of Christ will 
publicly recognize as a co-pastor a man who in effect tells 
them to their faces that, in spite of them, he will wear a 
mask ? Two other men, his accomplices, were discarded 
at the same time, but upon somewhat different grounds. 
They had both sorely taxed the patience of their breth- 
ren for years, and had indeed been kept in the body by 
an almost unexampled course of forbearance ; and now, 
in opposition to every dictate of gratitude and modesty, 
they assumed an independent jurisdiction by commendng 
the publication of a monthly journal in which they pro- 
posed to discuss the acts of their brethren, and even 
to overhaul the proceedings of the Conference. This 
agitating project they positively refused to abandon." 

" These acts of discipline excited considerable atten- 
tion at the time, and in some quarters were censured as 
arbitrary and unjust ; and one public journalist has en- 
quired by what right Mr. Wesley, and the Methodist 
Conference after him, have formed rules to regulate the 
conduct of religious people, and have even claimed the 


power to depose men from their ministry ? The answer 
may be given in a few words. When Mr. Wesley went 
into the highways, calling sinners to repentance, many 
persons were awakened to a concern for their eternal 
interests, and earnestly requested him to take them under 
his pastoral care and guidance. He had an unquestion- 
able right to declare upon what terms he would thus 
receive them; and he claimed that right At a later 
period men offered themselves to labor in connexion with 
him. Here again he had an unquestionable right to 
determine upon what terms he would accept the services 
of these men ; this right he also claimed and exercised. 
No men were compelled to labor as preachers in con- 
nexion with him; but all who chose to stand in that 
relation were bound to conform to the regulations by 
which their brethren were governed, and to which they 
bad severally declared their assent When Mr. Wesley 
died, the power which he possessed as the centre of 
operation in the Methodist Connexion had to be lodged 
somewhere; otherwise the Connexion which he had 
formed would necessarily be dissolved. By his appoint- 
ment, that power is vested in the Conference. No man 
is compelled to labor in connexion with the Conference 
a day longer than he chooses ; but while he does remain 
he is justly expected and required to submit to the 
Rules, which are alike binding upon him and upon all of 
his brethren. One of these rules is, that he shall submit 
to a yearly examination both as to his creed and his prac- 
tice; and the object of that examination is, to afford 
satisfaction to his brethren that he is sound in the faith, 
and that in respect of his moral and religious character 
he is tmblameable. The relation in which Wesleyan 
ministers stand to each other is well known to be more 
strict and intimate than that which subsists between the 
ministers of almost any other community. They exchange 


Circuits, are pledged to teach the same doctrines and to 
enforce the same discipline ; and submitting, as they do, 
to a yearly examination, they are answerable before the 
world and the Church for each other's character and con- 
duct Hence it is that misunderstandings among them 
are necessarily productive of calamitous results, not only 
to themselves, but to the people among whom they labor." 
" The cases with which the Methodist Conference of 
1849 ^^ called to deal, related not only to opinions, but 
to morals. They involved not only the infringement oi 
conventional rules, which men had promised before God 
to observe, but a violation of the law of Christ, — ^the 
eternal law of truth, and charity, and peace. Here were 
men sustaining the sacred character of Christ^s ministers, 
who were all but universally believed to be concerned in 
the publication of a series of pamphlets assailing with 
sarcasm, contempt, and bitterness, the good name of their 
brother ministers, and calculated entirely to destroy thdr 
usefulness. These men were not suddenly overcome by 
the violence of temptation, so as to speak unadvisedly 
with their lips; but deliberately, and of set purpose, 
planned schemes of mischief, and persevered in the 
execution of them, from year to year, with unabated 
malignity; and all this for the purpose of rendering nuga- 
tory the ministrations of men who were assodated with 
themselves in carrying into effect the great purpose for 
which the Son of God came down firom Heaven. The 
sin of these unhappy men acquired a peculiar aggravation 
from the circumstance that they were challenged and in- 
vited every year to state whatever they knew to be matter 
of blame in any one of their brethren. In every District- 
Meeting, and at every Conference, the names of the men 
who were so maliciously assailed were called over. In- 
quiry was made whether there was any objection to their 
ministerial, religious, or moral character. A pause was 


then made, inviting scrutiny and animadversion ; and 
repeatedly did the accused ministers themselves stand up 
in these meetings, declare their innocence of the things 
that were charged upon them, and call upon their accusers 
to shew themselves, and produce their proofs. When the 
men thus cruelly slandered were present to answer for 
th^nselves, their accusers were as silent as death ; and 
yet year alter year did they persist in their course of 
anonymous defamation." 

" If the men whom the Conference of 1849 discarded 
had not been actually guilty of writing and publishing 
the vile pamphlets of which we have spoken, they 
rendered themselves unfit for the Wesleyan Ministry 
by their unwillingness to purge themselves of the base- 
ness and sin which the authorship and publication of 
these pamphlets involved, and by refusing to declare 
their abhorrence of practices so mean, impious, and 
immoral. If any doubt remained as to the propriety 
of their severance from the Wesleyan body, that doubt 
must be for ever removed by the subsequent conduct 
of the parties. They have since thrown off the mask : 
with the aid of their confederates they have reprinted 
the obnoxious pamphlets and given them the widest 
possible circulation through the country. They have 
perambulated the land, holding public meetings, appeal- 
ing to the bad passions of the populace, attempting to 
'stop the supplies,' and thus effect the starvation of 
aged ministers and widows, to embarass the trust- 
estates of Methodist places of worship, and to break 
up the Wesleyan Missions in the heathen world. At 
the same time they have clamoured for organic changes 
in the Wesleyan economy, which, if adopted, would 
effect the disruption of the Societies and the Connexion. 
In this course they have had the support of the infidel 
press of this country; and— tell it not in Gath ! — they 


have been abetted and urged onward in their evil 
career by a large portion of the Dissenting press, which 
has sent forth weekly, monthly, and quarterly insinua- 
tions and invectives against the Wesleyan ministers and 
people, who offered the writers no provocation whatever."* 

So much may be useful by way of explanation to those 
who would not otherwise find so intelligible the Letters 
from which the following extracts are made. The extracts 
however are not given merely for the interest which a by- 
gone ecclesiastical movement can occasion, but also for 
their composition, which, like the political letters of 
Peter Pry, gives them an attraction independent of 
the topics they discuss. The first is supposed to be 
addressed to a friend, and takes up the general ques- 
tion of the justice which marked the treatment of the 
expelled Ministers: — 

"Dear Sir, — ^You appear to be very much hurt at the 
decision of the late Conference in the cases of Messrs. 
Everett, Dunn, and Griffith. You say that they have 
been expelled from the ministry without any just cause; 
that the Conference has assumed an inquisitorial and 
despotic power, and that the liberal' part of the 
Connexion ought to make a strong protest against its 
decision. I agree with you that a watchful eye should 
be kept upon the acts of all governing authorities, and 
I respect the ready sympathy you feel for men whom 
you believe to be oppressed. But the virtues have 
their limits; and it is well to see that reasonable 
watchfulness does not degenerate into unreasonable 
suspicion, and that the sympathy we give to one is 
not coupled with injustice to another. Your philoso- 
phic habits of observation must have taught you how 
rapid are the decisions of feeling compared with those of 

* Jackton's Hemoira of Dr. Newton. 


reason ; and how often men's judgments are confused by 
this movement of the sensiblities in advance of the 
intellect It may not have occurred to you, however, 
while taking your notes as an observer, ab extra^ that 
you are in yourself a rich example of this dispropor- 
tionate action. Your tears flow at the sight of distress 
before you inquire the cause of it I remember your 
giving alms to a man who shewed you a wound which 
it aitetwards appeared was caused by his resistance to 
a constable. And in the case of the reverend gentle- 
men who are now exhibiting their scars to the public, 
it may be well to inquire whether they came by them 
in honorable war&re, or through rebellion against law- 
ful authority." 

" The cause of Mr. Everett's expulsion was his refusal 
to answer the question whether he is the writer of cer- 
tain obnoxious publications called 'Fly-Sheets,' which, 
it is allowed, contain falsehoods and slanders in refer- 
ence to many of the leading ministers, and calumnious 
imputations touching the management of the connexional 
funds. Messrs. Dunn and Griffith were accused of 
promoting strife and division in the body, by a monthly 
publication of which they were the avowed conductors; 
and also, by communications to a newspaper which is 
regarded by the Conference as a hostile and mischie- 
vous print In their case, however, it was considered 
that dieir past doings mi^t be forgiven if they would 
pledge themselves to abstain from similar proceedings 
in future. This they refused to do, and for such refusal 
were expelled." 

'' Now in strictness, it must be remarked, this is not 
a connexionalxmXXei^ but purely a ministerial one. Directly, 
the ministers only are concerned in it, — the people only 
reflectively. No popular right is touched. By the con- 
stitution of the Wesleyan body the Conference has an 


absolute right of self^ovemment, and is not accountable 
to the Connexion for any exercise of authority, as between 
its own members. Whether this power be right or wrong, 
is not the question. The fact of its existence is all 
we have to do with ; and that being admitted^ it follows 
that the body are not directly concerned in the matter. 
Stilly as the power of the Conference rests upon the 
support of the people, and without that support would 
vanish, and as the people naturally expect, as the con* 
dition of then: support, that this power shall be rightfully 
exercised; so the cases in which it is enforced must 
always be open to free and various comment, and thus 
a reciprocal and healthful action will be established 
between the authority of the Conference and the public 
opinion of die Connexion." 

"The power of the Conference consists partly in 
its written laws, and partly in its independent authority. 
Mr. Everett's case came under the former. That his 
expulsion was in accordance both with the letter and 
the spirit of the law of 1835, there can be no question 
whatever. In the case of Messrs. Dunn and Griffith 
the laws of the Conference were not so definite, and 
they were subject rather to its general authority. In 
virtue of this authority they were expelled. It is &ir 
to ask whether in this the Conference exceeded the 
just limits of its prerogative. As there is a material 
distinction between Mr. Everett's case and theirs, so 
that they cannot be dealt with in common, we will 
advert to his first" 

'' The objectors to the sentence of expulsion against 
Mr. Everett, at the head of whom I may place the Tzma 
newspaper, allege that it is contrary to the usages of 
justice to question men as to their guilt or innocence; 
that the laws of England require no man to become 
his own accuser; and that thus the Conference has acted 


in an oppressive and anti-English spirit You will 
observe that according to this reasoning the standard 
of the ministerial character is lowered to the same level 
with that of coiners and sheep-stealers. The pulpit and 
the felon's dock are placed side by side ; and to depose a 
minister from his office there must be the same force of 
legal evidence as is required to send a burglar to the hulks. 
Above all, however suspicion may darken around them, 
both are to be sacredly secured from any criminative 
question. Now it must be admitted that this is an 
exceedingly enlightened view of the ministerial office, 
and of the moral qualifications it demands; but even 
upon its own wretched Old-Bailey standard, the Times 
breaks down, not merely in its reasonings, but in its 
&cts. It is 'not the usage of English law to avoid 
putting a question to an accused person. On the con- 
trary, the first step in every criminal trial is to put a 
question to the accused, the most criminative that can 
be asked, — ^whether he is Guilty or Not Guilty, Parallel 
with this was the proceeding of the Conference with 
Mr. Everett He was required to plead Guilty or Not 
Guilty. He refiised to do either. It may be said that 
here the parallel fails; for that as he (Ud not admit 
his guilt, it was incumbent on the Conference to pro- 
duce proofs of it before proceeding to judgment, just 
as a criminal can be convicted only upon evidence of 
guilt, and not merely upon suspicion of it But the 
cases are widely different In that of a person charged 
with some crime resting upon documentary proof, the 
law enters his house, ransacks his repositories, and brings 
to light the evidence that convicts him. If the Confer- 
ence possessed a similar power, does any reasonable 
man doubt that Mr. Everett s study would have fiumished 
all the proofs that were necessary? And was he to 
brave the authority of the Conference, merely because 
it had not the aid of the police ?** 



" If this jealous horror of putting questions to men 
suspected of wrong practices were of an earlier date 
than September, 1849, ^^ would have saved some public 
men of our times from great inconvenience. With what 
peculiar feelings must Mr. George Hudson, for instance, 
regard this new-bom sensibility. Had it animated the 
public mind but twelve months sooner, he might have 
met the inquiries of the various railway committees befi^re 
whom he so unpleasantly figured, by simply standing 
upon his rights as an Englishman, and refusing to 
answer any question tending to criminate himselil If 
such refusal was taken as evidence of his guilt, he 
should then have had a great meeting at Exeter Hall, 
and appealed to its sympathy against this outrage upon 
the liberties of a British subject There are people 
enough in London, having an equal antipathy to all 
questioning processes, to fill that edifice as densely, and 
cheer as lustily, as when the expelled ministers pro- 
claimed their grievances." 

" But the views of the Ttffus are miserably defective 
in holding up its favorite code of Newgate as the 
only standard of English law. There are in this 
country two kinds of law. We have not only the law 
of the statute-book, but the law of public opinion; and 
this last is incalculably the most powerflil. It has a 
wider range than the common law, is more discrimina- 
tive in its operation, and more correct in its decisions. 
It takes cognizance of innimierable offences which the 
statutes do not touch, and graduates its punishments 
more nicely to the shadings of guilt How many men 
who never committed an act which brought them with- 
in the grasp of the criminal law, have yet been tried 
and condemned by this higher authority ! It handles 
no whip, but inflicts pain for which flogging would be 
a happy exchange. It immures in no jail, but it turns 
men's homes into prisons. It cannot banish offendcfSi 


but it renders them exiles in their own land. If it 
were necessary to jog the memory of the TYptes as to 
any special instance of the exercise of this power, I 
might advert to the case of a celebrated morning jour- 
nal, which, about fifteen years ago happened to make 
so sudden a wheel in its politics as was deemed incon- 
sistent with an honest conviction. How rapidly did 
public opinion try the case and assess the damages 1 A 
turn upon the tread-mill would have been a light penalty 
compared with the run upon its subscription list, the 
gibes and floutings of the press, kept up for years, 
and a shock given to its reputation, from which it has 
hardly yet recoveredr You remember the case of a man 
who a few years ago rose to the highest dvic honor 
the metropolis can bestow. He was afterwards detected 
in a falsehood. This was merely a moral offence, not 
a legal one; yet the public feeling was so roused that 
he would have given half his wealth to remove the 
blot from his fame. I mention these as instances of 
the retributive power of opinion, acting in the commu- 
nity at large. It is still more stringent in select companies 
and 'associations. What a watchful jealousy of personal 
honor is maintained, for instance, by the Bar ! You 
must be familiar with the name of a gentleman who 
went through a regular professional training, whose legal 
qualifications were of a high order, who was also one 
of the most gracefiil speakers in the House of Commons, 
but whom the Benches have refused to admit to practice 
on account of one questionable act ; not that they can 
prove him guilty, but that he has failed to prove his 
innocence. In some mercantile associations the esfrif 
de corps is just as sensitive. It not unfrequently happens 
that a merchant is accused of dishonorable dealing, not 
palpable enough to challenge legal punishment, but 
sufficiently so to damage his character and doud his 


name for life. In such a situation, for a man to shrink 
from inquiry, and to skulk behind the felon's plea 
of not proven^ would be equivalent to a confession of 

" Now to Christian ministers, of whatever sect or party, 
I should apply at least as rigid a test of personal character 
as belongs to any secular community. And as in many 
such communities it would not be endured that a man 
should refuse to answer a plain question upon a matter 
vitally affecting his reputation, so no such license should 
be allowed in a ministerial assembly. If, however, there 
is any one section of the Christian Church in which such 
a refusal is not only unwarrantable but even absurd and 
ludicrous, that section is the Wesleyan Methodists. There 
is nothing that more peculiarly distinguishes that com- 
munity than this spirit of mutual inquiry. It runs through 
and colors the whole system. The private members are 
subject to a weekly questioning by their class-leaders 
upon any points connected with their religious character. 
The leaders, in their turn, are open to a similar inquiry 
at their own meetings. Every local preacher passes a 
quarterly examination, in which he may be freely ques- 
tioned upon any matter bearing upon his moral repute 
At their District Meetings the Itinerant preachers are 
separately brought under the same discipline. Would 
it not be strange if, while in all the subordinate parts 
of the system this right of inquiry was freely exercised, 
the Conference should itself repudiate it? The probability 
is, that during his ministerial life Mr. Everett has in many 
cases put to others questions of as much importance to 
them as that which the Conference has put to him. If he 
expected a direct answer, why should not the Conference 
expect the same? Why should he himself shrink from 
the test which he applies to others? As a Wesleyan 
Minister he was bound by the usages of his own com- 


munity. Why should he act upon these in reference 
to other people, but run to Coke and Blackstone for 
protection when they apply to himself?" 

" So much for Mr. Everett's case. In that of Messrs. 
Dunn and Griffith, the Conference acted not so much 
by express law, — ^for it is impossible to meet every 
kind of offence in this way — as by its own indepen- 
dent authority. The tmanimous conviction was ^t 
these Ministers were creating by their various writings 
strife and discord in the Connexion. It is clear that 
there was every disposition to deal with them as 
leniently as possible. An admonition, and being made 
ineligible for some time to the superintendency of a 
Circuit, — ^no very heavy penalties, — ^were all that was 
required for the past; while for the future, they were 
to pledge themselves to discontinue any offensive pro- 
ceedings. Such a pledge they refused to give, and of 
this refusal their expulsion was the unavoidable con- 

'^ It is said by some, that this power of dealing so 
summarily, even with its own members, is too great an 
authority for the Conference to possess. That assembly 
is accordingly described as 'inquisitorial,' 'tyrannical,' 
' aristocratical,' 'unconstitutional,' — great, high-sounding 
words, for which I have so much respect that I am sorry 
to see them turned to an improper use. If I understand 
the argument of the TinuSy it amounts to this, — ^that in a 
free country the forms of religious government should be 
modelled upon those of civil government; but that the 
authority of the Conference is much more absolute .than 
that of the Legislature, and is thus at variance with the 
spirit of the Constitution. I am indebted to the Times 
for thus turning my attention to what I never before 
noticed, — the dose analogy between the House of Com- 
mons, as the main governing authority in the nation. 


and the Conference as a governing authority among the 
Wesleyans. The members of the House of Commons 
are elected by the people ; the members of the Confer- 
ence, to a man, have been chosen by the ConnezioxL 
The whole authority of the House of Commons could not 
add one to its number; the authority of the Conference 
is under the same restraint At every election, the House 
of Commons is recruited by some addition from the ranks 
of the people ; every year a similar addition is made to 
the Conference^ But the House of Commons, though 
elected by the people, claims when elected the power of 
self-government, and punishes or expels its own members 
by its own authority. The Conference claims the same 
power, and makes precisely the same use of it The 
House of Commons forbids the publication of its debates; 
the Conference sits with closed doors. But though the 
publication of what passes in it is nominally forbidden 
by the House of Commons, yet the attendance of 
reporters is permitted ; and so the proceedings of the 
Conference, though professedly private, are made known 
through so many channels that the public are just as well 
acquainted with them as if they were regularly reported. 
Instead of the authority of Conference being out of 
keeping with constitutional forms of government, it appears 
to be as much in harmony with those forms as the nature 
of things admits." 

"You say, that though you no longer feel any respect 
for the Conference, your attachment to Methodism in the 
abstract is unabated. This is somewhat as though a man 
should profess a great reverence for the Constitution, 
wishing at the same time to limit the royal prerogative, 
abolish the House of Lords, and remodel the Commons. 
The Conference bears pretty much the same relation to 
Methodism that the main spring of a watch bears to the 
other workings ; and by touching that, you would assuredly 


derange the whole machine. You profess also that for your 
ministers individually you have as much respect as ever, 
but that you hs^ve none for them collectively. I suppose 
there must be some logical refinement in this distinction 
which I am unable to discover. To me it seems just as 
reasonable as that you should like a man by day and not 
by night, or that your affections should cleave to him 
when standing, but that you should have a perfect hatred 
of him when he is sitting. How the man who in the 
pulpit and by your fireside wins your esteem and appro- 
bation, should become the object of your aversion the 
moment he enters the Conference, is more than I can 
imagine. It is owing, I suppose, to some dullness on my 
part, that my attachment to the Conference is made up 
of my separate regards for the individuals of whom it is 

'' In truth, it is the implicit confidence which I feel in 
the leading men of the Conference which satisfies me, as 
much as my knowledge of the cases, that in their late 
decisions they have judged in an equitable and even 
mercifiil spirit You think that no men are to be 
trusted witb such authority. This is a sour creed, at the 
best Whatever the defects of our common humanity, 
there are surely some men whose minds are upright and 
whose hearts are pure. And if such are to be found 
under the sun, I believe they formed part of the assembly 
which pronounced sentence on Messrs. Everett, Dunn, 
and Griffith. I may instance, first, the President of the 
Conference. Have you ever met with a man in whom a 
ripe maturity of intellect is so happily blended with a 
youthfiil fireshness of feeling? Clear, calm, penetrating in 
his judgment, yet alive to every kindly impulse, and his 
voice tremulous with sensibility. I have long been 
accustomed to think of him as one of the finest speci- 
mens of our nature. Associated with his there are other 


names, eadi of diem a tower of strength — Newton, 
Hannah, Dix(», Soott, Mc Owan, (I ^>eak only of those 
of whom I have some personal knowledge,) men who 
would pass throogh th^ fires of martyrdom rather than do 
anything dishonorable or oppressive. In my estimate of 
sach men I fed diat I can be under no mistake. Of Dr. 
Banting I know but litde; but if Shakspeare's marks of 
green and flourishing old age are correct, — * honor, 
love, obedi^ice, tnoops of friends' — ^he seems to have 
them in great plenty. Dull men complain of his 
authority in die Conference. When Joan of Arc was 
questioned by her judges how she acquired such influence 
over her followers, she answered, ' By the power which a 
strong mind exerts over inferior ones.' This is die secret 
of Dr. Banting's authority. He is not a man of genius, 
nor of eloquence ; but he is eminently distinguished by 
sagacity of intellect, diat quality which enables its posses- 
sor to £aLSten, as by instinct, upon the two or three main 
points into which all cases, however apparendy complex 
and intricate, ultimately resolve themselves, and decide 
accordingly. This quality naturally gives him great influ* 
ence in a popular assembly. It is the opinion of those 
who are best acquainted with Dr. Bunting, diat had he 
been a Chancery Barrister he would have risen to the 
highest eminence in the profession. He has been con- 
tent to forego all the worldly advantages which his talents 
might have procured, and devote his life to die public 
good. For this he has had the splendid pecuniary reward 
of about ^ I so or jj^2oo per annum, — a temptation which 
must, of course, induce a host of aspirants to aim at his 
* tyrannical power 1 " 

'' I thank you for compassionating my ' low nodcms of 
religious liberty.' It is, however, a superfluous tax upon 
your sympathies, for I can assure you that as a Wesleyan 
Methodist I enjoy all the liberty I desire. My notion of 


liberty, either religious or political, is, that it consists 
in an equality of mutual concessions. For the protec- 
tion which the State affords me, I cheerfully submit to 
its legislative authority. For the advantages I derive 
from the labors and talents of the Wesleyan Ministers 
I as cheerfully yield to them the absolute right of 
self-government, and the chief management of the con- 
nexional affairs. Have you yet to learn that the highest 
style of liberty is a self-imposed restraint? The lark 
feels as free in her grassy nest as when 'singing at 
heaven's gate' 

' Bees that soar for bloom 
High as the highest peak of Fumess-fellfly 
Will murmur by the hour in fox-glove bells,' 

and enjoy as lively a sense of freedom when imprisoned 
in the flower-cup as when winnowing the mountain 
breeze. The articulate voice of nature might have 
warned you against falling in so readily with the 
crude notions now a-float Your feelings are naturally 
generous, but they sometimes play tricks with your 
understanding. I invite you to a dispassionate review 
of a case in which you have certainly come to a pre- 
mature conclusion, — a conclusion which somehow acts 
unfavorably upon your temper. Had you been led 
astray by some great but erring intellect, there would 
be something respectable even in such an aberration; 
but to be misled by such lights as twinkle through the 
IVes/eyan Times is inexpressibly humiliating. You have 
hitherto occupied a post of usefulness and influence. 
Do not surrender it for the honors of a back-seat in 
the cave of Adullam. If there is to be a mischievous 
agitation, leave it to those who are specially adapted 
to such work, — to men whose voices, like birds of ill 
omen, are never heard but in storms. You require 



only patient thought to work your way again into the 
light of truth. May it speedily dawn upon you, and 
henceforward be ever bright upon your path. Yours 
very truly." 

''October 2, 1849." 

This letter was first printed in the West Briton^ then 
in the London Watehfnan^ and subsequently circulated 
as a tract through different parts of the Connexion. 
In the meantime the three expelled ministers had 
adopted the policy of making their grievances known 
to the Wesleyan public as well as the public in general 
by going through most of the important circuits in the 
kingdom and holding meetings in which the conduct 
of the leading men in the Conference was discussed in 
a very plain and homely English style. In this way 
the "agitation" was got up^ — with what calamitous 
results to the Connexion at large, needs not here be 
detailed. Cornwall was one of the counties that came 
in for a full share of the excitement It was one df 
the strongholds of Wesleyan Methodism ; it was Mr. 
Dunn's native county; and he had not many years 
before labored as a minister in one of its most important 
circuits. It was therefore thought expedient that while 
Messrs. Everett and Grifiith satisfied themselves for die 
time with a single visit to Cornwall, Mr. Dunn should 
give a larger share of his attentions to a district which 
promised no small amount of success to the work he 
was engaged in. From diis cause he was naturally 
brought into antagonism with the writer of the letter ; 
but some statements made when the three visited St 
Columb originated the next communication on this 
subject, addressed to the Editor of the West Briton.^ — 

"Sir, — In the reports which have been given in your 
journal of the proceedings of the three expelled Wesleyan 


Mmisters, I observe that two of these gentlemen have 
honored me with more especial notice than the slight 
share which I took in their controversy would have led 
me to expect. I must therefore claim permission for 
a few brief explanations in order to remove any mis- 
apprehension from the minds of some who may otherwise 
be misled." 

"At St Columby Mr. Dunn addressed his audience as 
follows : — * We shall be prepared to discuss the recent acts 
of the Conference with Robert Young and Edward Nye, 
with George Smith and with Thomas Garland; all of 
whom, when we were two or three hundred miles 
distant, have thought proper to take up their pens, 
assail our characters, hold us up to ridicule in some 
instances, and to condemnation, as far as they have had 
it in their power with the public, in others.' Now the 
impression which the speaker endeavoured to make 
was plainly, that an unfair advantage had been taken 
of his absence by the parties named, to say what they 
would not dare to assert in his presence. What are the 
real &cts of the case ? Mr. Young and Mn Nye each 
wrote a letter in your journal, Mr. Smith published a 
pamphlet in London, and you also did me the favor 
to publish a letter of mine; which was reprinted in 
London as a tract The West Briton was as open to 
Mr. Dunn as to Mr. Young, Mr. Nye, or myself, and 
he made use of its columns in reply. The London press 
was as much at his service as at Mr. Smith's. What, 
then, does he mean by complaining of an advantage 
being taken of his absence f If we were appealing to 
the public in person, this would be intelligible; but 
wlien using only our pens, what difference would it 
make whether the writer was at ten miles distance from 
the place of publication, or three hundred? Yet Mr. 
Dunn stoops to the disingemous artifice of persuading 


his audience that he had thus been wronged. He com- 
plains also that we have assailed the characters of the 
expelled, and held them up to ridicule. As Mr. Young, 
Mr. Nye, and Mr. Smith, are too well able to defend 
themselves to need any assistance from me, I will only 
say that I have no recollection of a single expression 
in their writings on which such a complaint can be 
grounded ; and my own letter is free from any offensive 
personality. If, by 'assailing character' Mr. Dunn 
means only that the conecmess of his conduct as a 
Wesleyan Minister has been impugned, I freely grant 
it ; but if he means that he has been made the subject 
of indiscriminate ridicule and abuse, such as he and his 
friends are in the habit of lavishing upon Dr. Bunting, 
Mr. Jackson, Mr. Osbom, and others of the most excel- 
lent and estimable men in our community, then I deny 
it in totoP 

*'It has been a favourite part of Mr. Dunn's tactics 
to challenge the gentlemen I have named, with myself 
to a public discussion. Supposing, for a moment, such a 
thing were gravely contemplated, there are some pre- 
liminary considerations which would require attention." 

** First, the time. Due notice should be given by the 
challenging party, that the other might have time for 
preparation. Mr. Dunn's challenge to me was given 
at St Columb, — ^with a special request to the reporter 
of the West Briton that it might appear in that journal 
of Friday, the 12 th, — ^to meet him at Redruth on Thurs- 
day, the nth; that is, on the day previous to that on 
which the notice reached me. I object to this, on the 
ground of ph)rsical impossibility." 

" Secondly, the place. Failing Redruth, Mr. Dunn pro- 
poses the Gorse Moors. Now to these moors I should 
object altogether. I have gone over them scores of 
times, without discovering any thing which makes them 


eligible as the arena of a discussion upon questions of 
ecclesiastical discipline. In wet weather it would be 
very inconvenient Damp feet, ague, rheumatism, and 
other disagreeables, readily suggest themselves. None 
but men of the toughest constitution should venture 
upon such a spot He next proposes Gwennap Pit 
The Pit, however, is not public property; and the 
gentleman who has the charge of it, thinking its histori- 
cal reputation would be tarnished by such a discussion 
as Mr. Dunn proposes, would not consent to have it 

" Thirdly, the judges. On this head I should at once 
decline making any appeal to members of other com- 
munities. Good taste and good feeling dictate alike 
as to the course which every right-minded man should 
take when invited to interfere with the internal discipline 
of a conmiunity to which he does not belong. Such 
interference is not merely an error of judgment ; it is 
a sheer impertinence. Some intrusive persons of this 
kind have sought to justify their meddlesome propen- 
sities by a reference to the countenance which the 
Wesleyans gave to Mr. Shore. This is a fallacy. The 
Church of England is the church of the State, and as 
such compels support from all the subjects of the State, 
who have thus a right to interfere with her discipline. 
The Wesleyans are a voluntary association, and it is 
as officious and intrusive for other communities to inter- 
meddle with their discipline, as it would be for any man 
to interfere with the household concerns of his next-door 

" Respecting the opinions of members of other bodies, 
on such points, as absolutely worthless, I hardly need 
add, that I should still more emphatically decline any 
appeal to the public at large. The qualifications which I 
shall propose, at the lowest, to fit any man for giving 


judgment on such a case, would be, i. Membeisfaip; 
2. A complete knowledge of the question on both sides; 
and 3. Cool, dispassionate reflection, to guide him to a 
correct conclusion. The only qualification which Mr. 
Dunn requires is the payment of sixpence to the expelled 
ministers' fund. To this I should demur. I could not 
consent to discuss such questions before parties, many of 
whom might be drawn off the ground, before the case 
was closed, by the appearance of a conjuror or a caravan 
of wild beasts." 

V I have made these remarks on the supposition that a 
question of this kind might properly be submitted to 
some public discussion. But no one knows better than 
Mr. Dunn that nothing can be more absurd than such 
a proposal. The Conference is the highest court of 
appeal in the Wesleyan Connexion; and after a case 
has been decided there, the reopening of it in a sin^^e 
town or circuit would be just as though the Gorham case 
after being settled by die Privy Council, had been 
remanded for the decision of the parish vestry at St Just 
Yet, knowing this, and being quite aware that no man in 
his sober senses would engage in so useless a contest, 
Mr. Dunn did not hesitate to state at Penzance that Mr. 
Yoimg had run away from that circuit rather than meet 
him ! He knew while uttering this, that if Mr. Young 
had remained at home, his meeting him in the way he 
proposed was quite out of the question ; and he was also 
aware, or might readily have known it, that his absence 
from Penzance was in consequence of his appointment 
by the last Conference upon a Deputation to Birming- 
ham. It is painful to be compelled to notice such sad 
perversions of truth." 

" It may not be amiss to mention, for the information 
of your refers in general, that they are greatly in error 
if they suppose that the intemperate Resolutions passed at 


the various Meetings which have been reported, express 
the sentiments of any considerable portion of the Wes- 
leyan body. In so large a community there are always 
some restless spirits who are anxious to signalize them- 
selves on occasions of this kind ; but even of such the 
number is greatly over-rated. Take the Penzance meet- 
ing as an instance. An unconcerned spectator entering 
the Corn-Market there, and finding eighteen hundred 
persons assembled on a Wesleyan question, would sup- 
pose the whole of that community in a stir. He finds, 
however, on inquiry, that the chairman is an Independent 
Minister, who has the ill-taste to interfere in this way with 
the internal discipline of another church ; that so far horn 
the Wesleyan Society countenancing such proceedings, 
not one individual belonging to it will so far degrade 
himself as to form part of the committee by whom the 
exhibition is got up; and that even the mover of the 
Resolution is a stranger to the town." 

** With regard to Messrs. Everett and Griffith, it is much 
to be regretted that the former did not avail himself of 
the fine oppoitunity which these meetings afforded him, 
to relieve himself of the odium of the slanderous tiash 
entitled ' Fly^heets.' Had he but stood up and boldly 
said, 'I am not the author of these things,' what a 
splendid illustration would he have given of the fidelity 
with which a lofty spirit adheres to a great principle *at 
any personal sacrifice. What a proud avowal it would 
have been for him to make, that when before the Con- 
ference he refused to answer the question, solely because 
it trenched upon his moral freedom; but now that the 
penalty was paid, he would shew the purity of his motive 
by a declaration of his innocence ! In this case, how the 
honors of martyrdom would have gathered in a halo of 
glory around his head ! Why renounce such pure fame 
as tiiis? Why content himself with ingenious fencing, 


like a man who is guilty, instead of speaking out in the 
clear decisive tone of one who is not i" 

'' A word as to Mr. Griffith. I find myself placed in a 
very peculiar position as it regards this gentleman. It is 
now upwards of twenty years ago since the public was 
horrified by a rumor of his having been waylaid by 
night, in returning fi-om Cawsand to Devonport; and 
firom his disappearance it was concluded that he had been 
burked. Never, in my remembrance, was there such an 
effervescence of popular sympathy, nor in my own life 
has any circumstance taken a livelier hold of my imagina- 
tion. I can recall, as it were but yesterday, the hours I 
passed in pacing the woods at Mount Eklgecombe, while 
the visionary tragedy rose firesh before me. The con- 
cealed assassins listening to his step — the rush upon 
their victim — the fatal struggle — the sack — ^the boat 
rocking on the strand, and then disappearing, with its 
awful freight, into midnight darkness — all the firightfiil 
imagery of the plot impressed itself in vivid colorings 
upon my mind. Some months afterwards it was found 
out that the whole afiair was a delusion. There had been 
no ambush, no stifling, no sack, no boat, — ^yes, there had 
been a boat, but into that boat our hero had stepped, and 
paddled off in perfect security, leaving the forlorn public 
to conjure up all the terrific phantasms with which it was 
so long distressed. Now, it is sufficiently painful to the 
sensibilities to witness the sudden exit of a human being 
from this world, and watch the mists of death closing over 
him; but it is still more shocking to see the defimct 
coming back from the spiritual region and taking his 
place again among living men. In such a case I think it 
should be optional with every man to recognize him as 
having any social status, or not For my part, I decide 
in the negative. When a man's life is fairly wound up, 
and there is an end of him, I don't feel that he has any 


further claim upon me. For this reason it is that I regard 
Mr. Griffith's as but a post mortem existence. To me his 
ramblings through the country appear merely as the wan- 
derings of an unhappy ghost He is therefore exempt, 
by the singular condition of his being, from the strictures 
to which his companions are fairly subject I am," &c 
''April 22, 1850." 

The next communication was addressed to the Watch- 
man newspaper in the month following : — 

" To the Editors of the Watchman, 

Gentlemen, — In the last number of the WesUyan 
Jtma there is an article which may be regarded as an 
official bulletin, on the part of the expelled Ministers, of 
their apostolical visit to Cornwall. The concluding sen- 
tence contains the substance of the whole report : ' St 
Colurob, Mevagissey, St Austle, Truro, Falmouth, Red- 
ruth, Camborne, Penzance, welcomed the Reformers, and 
committed themselves to the cause of liberty, in the 
course of a brief but successful tour through Cornwall 
and its vicinity.' The literal construction of the sentence 
would imply that these towns had themselves been upon 
a ' brief tour' — going about to see each other in a social 
way. But as I presume the cause of liberty is hardly got 
to that pitch, I take the meaning to be, that they have all 
declared themselves in favour of the expelled." 

"As the circuit in which I reside, Redruth, is thus 
claimed as a conquest by these gentlemen, I am desirous, 
for the credit of a numerous society, to relieve it from 
such an imputation. A meeting was held there in the 
Association ChapeL The number of persons who 
attended was reported in the WesUyan Times as a 
thousand. A gentleman who went there expressly to 
take notes of the proceedings assures me that there was 
not half that number. Of these, it is doubtfid if fifty 


were Wesleyans, — fix>m a society of above two thousand 
members. There are thirty-four local preachers on the 
circuit, of whom one only took part in the meeting, in 
which he was joined by one solitary class-leader. There 
were not even persons enough present, coimected with 
the circuit, to propose and second the two Resolutions. 
The first was moved by a stranger from Elxeter, and sup- 
ported by a gentleman who is not a member. The next 
was moved by a local preacher from Camborne, and 
seconded by another from St Columb. Yet, after these 
absurd proceedings, Redruth is reported as having 
declared in favour of the expelled ministers ! and this 
transparent fiction is given to the public, upon their 
authority, as grave matter of fact'* 

'^ I have no doubt that a similar abating process might 
be applied to the statement in reference to most of the 
places named in it Penzance, for instance, is set down 
among the sympathizing towns. The truth is, that not 
ONE member, out of the large Society in that place, could 
be got, either to join the Committee by whom the 
arrangements were made for the meeting, or to take part 
in conducting it You may judge from this, to what 
extent the crowd of persons who assembled in the corn- 
market at Penzance, were representatives of the Wesleyan 
Society. In every large town there is a loose floating 
population who are swayed in any direction by &e 
impulse of curiosity ; their main object, apparendy, being 
a kind of organic gratification of the eye. Before such 
a tribunal, Messrs. Duim and Everett have in several 
instances taken great credit to themselves for challenging 
the respected chairman of our District, the Rev. Robert 
Young, with my friend Mr. Smith, and myself, to a verbal 
combat As a mere ad captandum flourish, before a 
gazing crowd, this might be allowed to pass ; but I was 
not prepared to find so senseless a bravado recorded in 


the article (I presume, from Mr. Everett's pen) which 
called forth these remarks; and from which it would 
really appear that these gentlemen no longer recognized 
the distinction between literary debaters and mounte- 
banks. To the first character I have myself but slender 
pretensions ; yet I confess that my tastes, such as they 
are, run in that line, and with an utter aversion to the 
other. Supposing, however, that I thought the proposal 
worthy of consideration, I might fairly ask some little 
time for framings before entering on such a vocation. 
The fences of natural modesty cannot be leaped at a 
bound, though to break them completely down seems to 
be the preliminary qualification. This achieved, it 
remains to make a sober estimate of the necessary 
accomplishments. So far as I can judge from the best 
performers who have come under my notice, these con- 
sist mainly in a dexterity in making a one-sided case look 
like a whole one, with the art of varnishing over cracks 
and sore places, — great intrepidity of assertion — ^a pleasant 
way of twisting facts into the shape of fictions, and vice 
versd — ^prodigious power of face, — ^a talent for mimicry, 
without being particular about the line which separates it 
from buffoonery, — a droll manner of dealing with sacred 
things, — ingenuity in filling up small gaps in stories, — 
ready adaptation to the humors of a promiscuous crowd, 
— with a loud profession of zeal for their interests, — a 
keen eye being kept the while upon the man who carries 
about the hat, with an occasional wink, to quicken the 
motions of that fimctionaiy. If this is a correct inven- 
tory, I: must fairly own that I have no hope of success in 
that line; not only because the needfiil versatility of 
talent is wanting, but also in other respects I should deem 
it dangerous. At the same time, I lay down no law for 
others ; nor do I undertake to decide whether a man of 
extraordinary parts and attainments might not succeed in 


blending these accomplishments even with the ministerial 
character, making them serve for agreeable interludes 
between the more solemn duties of his office. The most 
unfortunate result of such a combination might be, that 
people who witnessed his performances in both lines 
would ignorantly suppose that on the boards he appeared 
in his real character, and in the pulpit in an assumed one; 
while others, who set no value upon ministerial gifts, 
would regret that by meddling with things out of his 
province, a capital mimic had foolishly thrown away his 

" In the article under my notice, we are fevored with 
a specimen of the * true sublime,' which should be treasured 
for the use of any future Burkes or Whatelys who may 
discourse upon that ethereal quality. A friend, writing to 
Mr. Everett, quotes a description of the Cornish miners, 
which is said to have been given by Dr. Clarke; and 
adds, * Is the testimony still borne out? I should like to 
hear you say "Yes" — ^standing on St Michael's Moimt 
That, to me, would be the true sublime.' This friend of 
Mr. Everett's must be a grave joker. To detect the sly 
hit he gives, you have only to notice that of the forty 
thousand words or thereabouts, of which our language 
consists, this little vocable ' Yes ' is the one to ^ich Mr. 
Everett has the most mortal antipathy. It is only by 
some violent hypothesis that he can be supposed to utter 
it at all. His quizzing friend, being aware that under no 
ordinary circumstances would it escape his lips, places 
him in imagination upon St Michael's Moimt, and fancies 
that thercy standing on the dizzy eminence, amidst the 
surging waters, and the sound of winds and waves, so 
lively would be the inspiration of the scene, that he would 
even pronounce that obnoxious word ! But as ' Yes' of 
itself, without some previous interrogatoiy, would be but 
an unmeaning exclamation from a man so situated, his 


correspondent supposes him to utter it in affirmation 
of the correctness of a portrait by Dr. Clarke. Now, 
with all due respect to Ihe Doctor's memory, I 
must add that the description here given belongs to 
that particular style called 'fustian'. Not that this 
abates from the rherit of so great a man, for it is 
the privilege of great men to talk nonsense; and they 
are damaged by it only when their undiscriminating 
admirers have not sagacity enough to distinguish between 
the impure ore and the sterling metal It may be pre- 
sumtuous in me to enter the list, with a literary veteran 
like Mr. Everett, in a discussion of the elements of the 
true sublime ; but a circumstance suggests itself to my 
imagination which seems more in harmony, than that 
which his correspondent pictures, with the accesso- 
ries of natural grandeur aroimd St Michael's Mount 
Fancy Mr. Everett standing on that fearful crag on the sea^ 
ward side of the castle, whence gazing on the watery waste, 
he beholds a shadowy form hovering o'er thecrested billows, 
and slowly approaching, till there stands revealed before 
him — the Patron-Saint of the Isle ! Suppose that, while 
his blood curdles with terror, there pogs in his ears a 
spirit voice, 'Art thou the author of the " Fly-Sheets?"' 
and that instantly, in .an agony of apprehension, his fears 
alarmed, and conscience springing from its slmnber, he 
sings out *Yes,' — that word, I conceive, uttered under 
such circumstances, would have a touch of the true 
sublime, a long way a-head of the sample we are 

" Whilst I am occupying your columns, permit me to 
aUude to a paragraph which recently appeared in the 
journal from which I have quoted, stating that Mr. 
Osbom, who lately visited Cornwall upon a Missionary 
Deputation, was very coldly received, and that in some 
of the towns which he visited, insulting placards were 


posted on the walls. The impression on the mind of any 
reader imacquainted with the facts, would be, that Mr. 
Osbom was generally treated, on his Cornish tour, with 
marked disrespect The person who communicated this 
valuable piece of news to the print in question was not 
perhaps aware that while volunteering as a Mse witness 
against Mr. Osbom, he was in truth, defaming the cha- 
racter of his own countrymen. Without arrogating any 
undue merit on behalf of the Cornish, I may yet daim 
for them a native courtesy which forbids their treating 
strangers with insult No minister of the gospel, even if 
he were unpopular on other grounds, would meet with 
any open expression of disrespect while addressing a Cor- 
ni^ audience. Even at a Missionai;y meeting the 
religious character of the service is felt to be a sufficient 
protection to any speaker, whether minister or layman, 
against interruption, or any rude form of dissent I have 
not known nor heard of a solitary instance to the con- 
trary. We leave it to the enlightened religious refonners of 
the metropolis, to give to a meeting for the extension of 
the gospel the character of* a street brawl ; to put down a 
speaker, known to them only as a stranger and a gentle- 
man, by brute clamour, and to salute venerable men, 
bending under the weight of years and honourable service, 
with that peculiar note which belongs only to serpents and 

" In reference to our late Missionary Deputation, it is 
also stated in the paragraph I have adverted to, that in 
some cases they left the towns as the ' expelled ' entered ; 
and that in others, they followed immediately in their 
wake. I am bound to admit the truth of this extraordi* 
nary fact, though what inference is to be drawn from it I 
cannot imagine. It seems merely to be a roundabout way 
of saying that both parties displa3red the ordinary powers 
of locomotion* Coleridge says that the meanest thing 


under the sun is, a fact which illustrates nothing; fix)m 
which predicament this fact might have been extricated, 
had the writer added that, notwithstanding the hopes that 
the visit of the expelled ministers would have had some 
damaging effect upon the labours of the Deputation, no 
such result followed. On the contrary, the attacks made 
by these unhappy men upon the Wesleyan ministry in 
general, and, in particular, upon the individual preachers 
in most of the circuits through which they passed, (a 
distinguishing feature of their policy) in addition to the 
calumnies which have been circulated respecting the man- 
agement of the Mission funds, caused, by the indignant 
feelings they excited, such a flow of libaality as raised 
our contributions to a level they never before reached." 

<< I remain," &c 
''May 11, 1850." 



The next of the letters in this correspondence is addressed 
to Mr. Dunn himself: — 

"Rev. Sir, — If I were to follow the example you set, of 
calling even venerable men by their plain names, instead 
of giving them those titles of courtesy or honor by which 
they are commonly distinguished, I might address you 
merely as ^ Samuel,' or perhaps * Sammy Dunn.' But I 
have yet to learn that because of any difference with 
others in opinion or sentiment, we may be vulgar or 
contemptuous in our mode of addressing them. The 
spirit of a gentleman blends by natural affinity with the 
spirit of a Christian, and it may be fairly suspected 
whether the latter is in a very flourishing condition when 
it divorces itself from the former." 

" My personal recollections of you go back more than 
thirty years, — to the very time when you entered on your 
ministry. There then seemed every probability that in 
that ministry you would acquit yourself with credit You 
had more than ordinary talent; your style of address was 
fervent and impressive; and I believe your heart was 
devoutly engaged in the solemn duties of your profession. 
You read much, thought much, labored much. Nor, for 
a long period, did your after years disappoint the promise 
of your youth. I believe I speak only the sense of your 
late brethren, and thousands among whom you labored, 
when I say that throughout your ministry you sustained 
the character of an able, zealous, and faithful preacher 
and pastor. Even in the minds of those who regard your 
subsequent career with severest reprehension, nothing 


can blot out the remembrance of a part of your life on 
which you may always look back with satisfaction and 

" I do not know whether it ever occurred to you that 
with your good qualities there were mingled some faults. 
If you were not conscious of them, your friends were. 
It was generally thought by those who knew you best, that 
you were inclined unduly to magnify your own abilities ; 
that you formed your opinions with too absolute an 
independence of the opinions of others, and asserted 
them in a dogmatic and imconciliatory tone. You were 
apt to mistake harshness of temper for strength of prin- 
ciple, and to act upon impulses of passion as though they 
were decisions of the intellect There is a story current, 
that when you were appointed to Shetland, Dr. Clarke, 
(to whose authority you are fond of appealing,) in speak- 
ing of your qualifications for that missionary station, 
instanced as one, that the devil himself could not turn 
you. Though the events of the last two years have given 
a melancholy contradiction to the Doctor's opinion^ it 
would seem, from the form of his expression, that even 
then, to his practised eye it was perceptible that the 
Christian zeal proper to the office was backed up with a 
good deal of dogged obstinacy peculiar to the man." 

" I believe in my heart it was this infirmity of temper, 
growing with your years, which mainly led to your expul- 
sion. You are aware to what an extent, in cases of 
dispute, otur impressions of the parties axe decided by 
their manner and deportment ; and how imperfect often 
is any written report of the case, wanting this living 
conmientary of looks, tone, and gestures. Now if the 
people who have heard only your version of the pro- 
ceedings at the Conference of 1849, could have actually 
witnessed them, to what different conclusions would they 
come ! By the concurrent testimony of men whose words 



admit no shadow of doubt, I am as sure as I can be of 
any fact beyond the evidence of my senses, that during 
the sitting of that Conference your general conduct was 
uncourteous in the extreme, — your language rude, petu- 
lant, offensive. I could mention the name of a brother 
minister, (but your memory will supply it) who happening 
to meet you out of the Conference, volunteered some 
information which he thought would be of deep interest 
to you, but was instandy met with such tart, snappish 
replies, as made it painful for him to stay in your presence. 
In short, the impression on the minds of the whole Con- 
ference was, that they were dealing with a thoroug^y 
impracticable man, upon whom all attempts at concilia- 
tion would be utterly wasted. We have it upon high 
authority, that there are tongues which no man can tame; 
and unfortunately, they are sometimes heard in the 
Church as well as out of it" 

" It forms no part of my purpose in these remarks, to 
go into the particulars of your case with the Conference. 
I will even admit, for the sake of argument, that your 
expulsion was unjust; that you are in reality one of the 
meekest, humblest, most forgiving of men; and that your 
brethren forced you out of their ranks only because diey 
could not endure the lustre of your superior virtues; 
which I think tallies pretty nearly with the account you 
give of the affair. Admitting all this, I ask, what, upon 
every principle of right, should have been your course 
when severed from your old connexion ? Ought you not 
then to have joined some other community, or become 
the pastor of an Independent church? In either way, 
you might have passed the remainder of your life with 
honor to yourself and benefit to others. Unfortunately, 
your angry passions led you in another direction. With 
the First Expelled you took for your motto, * Evil, be 
thou my good;' and most faithfully have you acted up 


to it For two years you have been engaged in disturb- 
ing the peace of the Wesleyan Societies, — ^in scattering 
the seeds of envy, hatred, and strife throughout the land. 
The result of your labors, with the aid of your friends, 
Everett and Grifhth, has given us a new conception of 
what may be accomplished by the humblest instruments 
when strengthened by the deadliest passions. In that brief 
period fifty-six thousand souls have been rent from the 
Wesleyan commimity. What part of them have united 
themselves with other Societies, I have no means of 
ascertaining; but I fear that a great part are now in con- 
nexion with no other Christian society whatever. The 
religious peace and comfort of multitudes have been 
destroyed, and a torrent of angry passions let loose, the 
traces of which will hardly be effaced for a generation. 
And for what has all this been done, but to gratify a 
revengeful feeling against the Conference ? Your pro- 
fessed object has been to regain your former position, by 
the power of the people exerted against the authority of 
that assembly. But you could not have been sincere in 
this. You never really thought such a thing was possible. 
You must be aware that no recantation, however ample — 
no penitence even, however abject — could restore you to 
your forfeited place in the Wesleyan ministry. Your 
severance is complete and final. The Conference must 
lose all respect for itself and for the Connexion before 
you can again be admitted into it" 

** Is it possible, however, that while inflicting such 
irreparable injury upon others, you can yourself escape 
unhurt? Allow me to draw your attention to one par- 
ticular. When you were down last year, you indulged, 
in your addresses, in a recklessness of assertion which 
surprised and pained those who remembered you in your 
best days. In your recent tour you seem to have given 
proof of this habit having acquired a fatal ascendancy. 


Do you ask for instances? It is impossible, within 
ordinary limits to expose all the liberties you have taken 
with facts; but I select two of the most prominent of 
your statements, and when they are scrutinized any dis- 
passionate man may place what faith be likes in the 

The remainder of the letter, with foiur letters that 
follow, are devoted to an investigation of Mr. Dunn's 
public charges against some of the leading Wesleyan 
ministers, — a tissue of calumny and misrepresentation, the 
details of which may here be passed over. After 
thoroughly sifting all the fictions of the expelled minister, 
the writer concludes, — ^**And now, sir, I bid you farewdl. 
The sprinklings of abuse with which you have honored 
me I fireely forgive. For any damage my letters may 
cause you in the minds of the public, I cannot consider 
myself responsible. As a general rule, men are not 
damaged in their reputation, but by their own acts; and 
whatever loss of this kind you may sustain you must 
impute to your own misconduct, and not to my exposure 
of it If you choose to go about the country defaming 
men whose talents and virtues are the common property 
of a great religious community, — ^men so immeasurably 
your superiors in every quality which commands respect 
or veneration, that in common charity it is to be hoped 
you would not invite a comparison, — ^you must not com- 
plain if, from such attacks you retire in dilapidated plight 
You have, however, some slight consolation in the know- 
ledge that your labor has not been wholly in vain. It is 
something for such stories as yours to have three months' 


run. And even now, there are many who will not be 
undeceived. It can hardly be supposed that all who 
have heard your statements will see the refutation of 
them. So you will have the satisfaction of knowing that 
there are some who have settled down into a comfortable 
conviction that the standard writings of the Connexion 
have been shamefully corrupted; that this has been done 
with some dark and mysterious design; and that Dr. 
Bunting and Mr. Jackson are two great literary forgers. 
Nor will you sustain these charges upon your single testi- 
mony. Your friend of the Wesleyan Times — ^the same 
gentleman who vouches for the Champagne dinners at the 
Mission House — has already volunteered his aid; and his 
intrepidity is such that I think you are not likely to 
exceed what he will be ready to confirm. I fear, how- 
ever, that beyond this select circle you must look for no 
encouragement Men may play tricks for a time with 
truth and common sense, but after all they are fearful 
antagonists and will have the best of it in the long run. 
You may now and then dip them under the surface, but 
they will come up again, and avenge themselves for their 
temporary submersion. You have had ample opportunities 
for stating your case to the public; I have now in my 
humble way stated mine; and I await with perfect con- 
fidence the decision of all candid and dispassionate men.*' 

" I am, Rev. Sir, 

" Your obedient servant, T. G." 
''December i, 1851." 

One of the strangest features of this Reform agitation was 
the part taken in it by several ministers of other denomi- 
nations, and by various sections of the newspaper press. 
Equally curious is the fact that with scarcely an excep- 
tion they all blundered in the same manner as the Times 
itself, by assuming that there could be no distinction 


in the laws which govern a great religious community 
and those which regulate the proceedings in a common 
court of justice. They were all strangers to the details 
of Wesleyan church government; they knew little or 
nothing of its internal polity; they overlooked the 
obvious principles that every church has a full right 
to make and settle its own laws, which no other church 
is warranted to meddle with ; and fastening on the one 
obnoxious fact that three ministers against whom no crime 
could be proved had been expelled from the Wesleyan 
pulpits, they became full of indignation against what 
they deemed such an abuse of English liberty. Among 
the ministers who thought proper to enter a public pro- 
test against the Conference proceedings, was Dr. Jabez 
Bums, of London, who took the chair at a public meet- 
ing held by the Reformers at Exeter Hall. To this gentle- 
man the following letter was subsequently addressed : — 

" Rev Sir, — I feel pleasure in paying a merited tribute 
of respect to the Independent ministers, as a body, for 
the neutrality they have preserved during the late unhappy 
dissensions in the Wesleyan community. Of those who 
are most distinguished by their virtues or their talents, I 
cannot name one (unless Dr. Campbell's friends wish to 
include him in the number) who has acted otherwise. 
They have had the good sense to perceive that questions 
of discipline among Wesleyans must be decided by their 
own laws, and not by the usages of Independency ; and 
they have the good feeling to admit that rules of churdi 
government, though framed on contrary principles, may 
be maintained with equal integrity. For your own credit, 
it is to be regretted that you have taken a different course." 

" A meeting of persons calling themselves Wesleyan 
Reformers was held in Exeter-Hall on the 12th inst It 
does not appear from the published report, that it was 
convened for any especial object ; but chiefly to afford an 


opportunity to two ministers, now under suspension, and 
one who has resigned his office, to lay their complaints 
against the Conference before a promiscuous assembly. 
Supposing the evidence in the case of those ministers had 
been given in full, on both sides, before a court competent 
to pronounce a decision upon it, and you had been asked 
to preside as judge, I should presume that as a minister 
of another denomination, you would at once, from a 
natuml feeling of delicacy, have declined such a proposal. 
Yet at a meeting where it was intended only to present an 
ex parte statement, to an audience whose opinion could 
be of no appreciable value, you thought it decent and 
becoming to preside. You not only did this, but you 
pre-judged the cases before they were heard even by this 
grotesque tribunal; and in doing so you attacked the 
whole body of Wesleyan ministers with a bitterness and 
ferocity of language with which we are familiar only in 
times of revolutionary violence." 

'' This was bad enough, but were this the worst I should 
not trouble myself to address you. In your opening speech 
you adverted to the secession which took place in the 
past year, from the Wesleyan community, in terms which 
implied that the fifty-six thousand persons thus separated 
had been expelled — forcibly expelled — ^by the preachers 1 
You described this alleged expulsion as ' one of the most 
sanguinary immolations* of character, membership, and 
piety, the world ever beheld. There must, you said, * be 
a grand Methodistic carnival, and on the altar of that 
carnival day fifty-six thousand Methodists, collected from. 
the world, united together, loving God, and loving each 
other, must be ruthlessly immolated ; the like of which 
sacrifice the Protestant world never witnessed, — 2, mons- 
trosity almost too vile for human conception. Surely, if 
anything will satisfy priestly arrogance, here is enough." 
Now on reading such a passage as this, a man instinc- 


tively rubs his eyes and asks whether anything in this 
world b what it appears to be ? 

" If white u white, or black so very Uack f ' 

'' In reference to the speaker, one first asks whether 
he is sane ? Next, whether, from his general habits he is 
supposed to have any sense of the distinction between 
truth and falsehood ? And then, if he knows anything at 
all of what he is talking about ? Presuming that you 
claim no allowance upon these grounds, and confining 
my attention to the passage I have quoted, I think that 
more ^Isehood — ^more absolute, unmitigated falsehood — 
false, not merely as not true, but as the direct inversion 
of all known fkcts— could hardly, by any efibrt be con- 
densed into an equal number of words. It is after an 
extravaganza of this kind, that Gulliver and Munchausen 
look tame and poor. The invention of fiction is but a 
slight accomplishment compared with the transmutation of 
truth into falsehood. There it is that the hand of a 
master is seen. I do not wonder that the Hall rang with 
cheers and cries of ^Air, Aear / There were men upon 
the platform who must have been charmed into involun- 
tary admiration of a flight by which they were so suddenly 
distanced in what they had regarded as their own peculiar 

" While uttering these words, you knew that for two 
years past the Wesleyan Connexion has been subject to 
incessant agitation ; that the purpose of such agitation 
was to disturb and rend the societies ; and that, as the 
result, fifty-six thousand members have been lost to the 
community. You knew also that nearly the whole had 
been lured into a voluntary renunciation of membership. 
Yet, knowing all this, you chose to represent a voluntary 
secession as an arbitrary expulsion, and to charge upon 
the Conference, as its own act, what it regards only as the 
most deplorable event that has transpired in the history of 


Methodism. If you read all contemporary history in the 
same way, you must be qualified to throw some new light 
upon it Indeed, no limit can be placed to the discoveries 
of a gentleman whose moral optics are so singularly 

*^ But this is not all In the crusade against Methodism 
you know what a variety of agencies have been employed. 
Of the reverend agitators I need not say anything here. 
I may grant, as you state, that 'James Everett is the 
author of certain wonderfuUy-taking books,' — one of 
which was so ' taking' that it took him out of the Con- 
nexion ; that Samuel Dunn has waded through large folio 
volumes of old theology, — ^although Samuel Dunn has 
lately been displaying some accomplishments which it is 
not supposed that he picked up among the old divines ; 
and that William Griffith is ' a man of herculean physical 
strength,' — though it is the first time I have seen that 
item included in the catalogue of ministerial graces. But 
you did not limit your praise to them. You were pleased 
to bestow it upon a weekly newspaper which claims a 
considerable share in the advancement of what is termed 
the ' reform' cause. Now, whatever variety of opinions 
may exist about the gentlemen I have named, there can, 
I presume, be but one opinion among men of intelligence 
and piety as to the character of that paper. I do not 
know to what extent it is to be regarded as the organ of 
the dissentient party ; but I feel that no Christian church 
could be more degraded or defiled than by a union with 
persons whose views and feelings are in harmony with the 
spirit of that journal. Yet this is a print upon which you 
bestow marked and emphatic praise, and describe it as a 
well-conducted and honourable publication ! If you said 
this in ignorance, there might be some excuse ; but you 
spoke with a perfect knowledge of its character, for you 
said you had read it from its commencement to the 


present tirae ; and added, that you were so enamoured of 
it that when from home you pay for an extra copy, so 
impatient are you for your weekly gratification. Then, 
sir, you must have waded through the deluge of slander 
poured upon the most venerated men in the community ; 
and these waters of Marah have been to you as a refresh- 
ing bath 1 Pray, in the church which is honored with 
your ministration, is there a table of the ten command- 
ments ? If so, in what condition may the ninth happen 
to be ? I fancy a painter or gilder might find somethhig 
to do there." 

" It might perhaps be urged in your favor, that though 
expressing yourself generally in £a,vor of this infamous 
print, you did not mean to indorse with your especial 
sanction all its separate atrocities. Unfortunately you 
have deprived yourself even of this miserable plea. 
Among all the slanders it has published, the one which 
was most cowardly and ferocious, you, sir, have selected 
for express commendation." 

'' As in this remote part of the kingdom we have but a 
thin sprinkling of doctors of divinity, and therefore note 
their sayings and doings with more interest than those of 
ordinary mortals, you will excuse the liberty I take in 
thus addressing you. You intimated to your friends at 
parting, that you are so delighted at all their proceedings, 
that whenever they want a helping hand they may send 
for you. It must have been an agreeable announcement 
As they pretty often have work on their hands which 
needs a little friendly aid, it is not improbable that I may 
again have the honor of paying my respects to you ; and 
whether you find our acquaintance particularly agreeable 
or not, it will be your own fault if it be not profitable." 
" I am, Rev. sir, your obedient servant, 

''Nov. 22, 1851." 


To the above letter Dr. Bums sent a reply in the 
Watchman^ — as follows ; — 

" To the Editors of the ' Watchman: 

" Sirs, — In your last week's journal I find a long letter 
addressed to me, under the designation of * A Comish- 
man,' in reference to my speech in Exeter-Hall, Nov. 12. 
I avail myself, therefore, of your columns, to request 
my masked opponent to oblige me, first, by taking the 
mask off and showing me his real cognomen. Secondly, 
I request that if he condescends to notice anything I may 
say or write, that he will endeavour to reply to statements, 
and fiimish his arguments and proofs, as is usual in 
polemical contests, as it strikes me that to call his oppo- 
nent * insane^ or a * liar^ just amounts to nothing, and 
cannot confer on him very great literary renown. Thirdly, 
that, be the ' Comishman' whom he may, if he has any- 
thing like Christian respectability about him, as he has 
thrown down the gauntlet very valorously in his epistle, 
I will meet him publicly before an English audience in 
Exeter-Hall, Ix>ndon, to substantiate the truthfiilness ot 
my whole speech. Fourthly, if Exeter-Hall, or a journey 
to London, by the ' Comishman,' be inconvenient, I will 
meet him at Bath, Bristol, Exeter, or even Devonport ; 
so that his vaunted prowess may not lack a trial before 
an intelligent and impartial public. Fifthly, if my propo- 
sition should meet with the concurrence of your corres- 
pondent in the Comish mask, then let him doff it, and 
either through your joumal, or by letter to myself, let the 
acceptance of my proposal be announced, and, rely on it, 
it shall have the most prompt attention. I am yours 
most truly, 

**N<rv. 29, 1 85 1.'' "J. Burns." 

To this very singular challenge the subjoined reply was 
sent : — 


" Rev. sir, — I have read your letter in the WaUhman 
of this week. I cannot call it an answer, because it does 
not attempt any defence. It is due to you, however, that 
I should make a few remarks on it" 

" I. You wish me to give my name, or, as you express 
it, to take my mask off and shew my cognomen. You 
are not happy at a metaphor. By dropping a mask, the 
wearer shews a face, not a cognomen. You are quite 
welcome to my name, if you can shew any reason for 
asking it ; but I can see no reason, nor do you give any. 
Our case is precisely the same, with my name or without 

'' 2. You say that, in reply to your statements, I should 
have furnished arguments and proofs, as is usual in- 
polemical contests. But ours is no polemical contest 
We are at issue, not upon matters of opinion but upcMi 
matters of fact; and no arguments can make facts 
stronger or weaker. You complain also that I called you 
* insane* and * a liar? You italicise these words, and 
give them in inverted commas, as literal transcripts from 
my letter. But neither of them is to be found in it 
What will the reader think of your veracity ? I fear the 
Wesleyan Times does you no good." 

" 3. You propose to debate the matters on which I 
addressed you, either in Exeter-Hall, at Bath, Bristd, 
Exeter, or Devonport Well, there seems at first to be 
something valiant in this ; and I must acknowledge yoai 
courtesy in giving me the choice of Devonport Su{^;>ose 
that to be die place ; there are then a few preliminary 
considerations. First, I do not know what we are to 
debate. Are we to discuss such questions as, whether 
56,000 Wesleyans have been 'immolated' during the 
past pear ? whether the Wesleyan Times is a respectable 
journal ? or whether its unhappy proprietor is entitled to 
testimony of respect for his libels ? These are the three 


main points on which I addressed you ; and surely they 
need no discussion. You may depend upon it that very 
little interest would be excited at Devonport, nor would 
the inhabitants feel at all honored by having their town 
selected for such a debate. There might be some stir at 
Paddington, when it was known that you were setting off 
upon so valorous an enterprise. I can fancy you escorted, 
in gay procession, from the Cock and Bottle — ^brass band 
— showers of bouquets and laurels — a great rush to the 
railway station to see you start — and shouts and cheers 
mingling with the screech of the steam-whistle. But the 
interest would diminish along the line ; and from what I 
know of the intelligent people of Devonport, they would 
think your pastoral duties must be very light, at finding 
you come there on such an errand. We should have a 
thin house, sir. We might pick up any idlers that were 
about, and a few sailors might drop in ; but the thing 
would be decidedly unpopular. Any small novelty would 
be fatal to us. A stuffed crocodile, or a two-headed cow 
would draw away all our audience." 

" 4. But there is another reason for my pausing before 
meeting you in any public discussioiL Since I first wrote, 
you have drawn to yourself an unenviable share of public 
attention by an act which demands a serious notice. I 
should think that any man of reflective habits would be 
slow to place himself in opposition to the judicial admin- 
istration of the laws. If he were a Christian minister, 
then, looking to the effects of such an example, and 
remembering by what solemn authority respect for the 
law is made a part of religious duty, he would refuse to 
shew hostility to its decisions unless in a case where, 
under judicial forms, there had been committed a plain 
and palpable wrong. Further, in a case in which a brother 
minister had been made the subject of an atrocious charge, 
and on appeal to the law it had flung over him its pro- 


tecting shield and punished its accuser, — surely, under 
such circumstances his sympathies would naturally go 
with the aggrieved party; and only upon the clearest 
proofs of guilt would he turn against him and openly side 
with the accuser. I need not dwell upon the particulars 
of a case which has so recently been before the public. 
It is sufficient to advert to the slanders by which an 
innocent and unoffending man was subjected to inde- 
scribable agony, and a gentle-hearted woman hounded to 
her grave. Yet to these atrocities you have made yourself 
a party, first, by praising the wretched print in which the 
libels were published, and then by proclaiming your 
sympathy with the libeller. After this, we may waive 
your proposal for a debate. While such are your views 
and feelings, I feel that I cannot be at too great a distance 
from you, either in person or in. sentiment" 
" I am. Rev. sir, 

" Your obedient servant, A Comishman." 

The tenth Letter in the series is addressed to the 
Editor of the Cornish TeUgraph\ — 

" Sir, — It appears that the people who call themselves 
' Wesleyan Reformers' have got a fresh importation into 
Cornwall, in the person of a Mr. Burnett, a preacher now 
under suspension by the Conference. I find that the 
Music Hall in Truro was enlivened on Tuesday last by 
some voluntaries performed by this gentleman." 

''As Mr. Burnett informed the meeting that he had 
been travelling with the greatest possible speed for 
eighteen hours, to insure being present, it was natural 
to suppose that the importance of his communications 
would have some proportion to the celerity of his journey. 
But in this I confess to a disappointment It seems a 
pity that any man should deprive himself of sleep, and 
travel at an uncomfortable rate, in the dead of winter, 


merely to deliver himself of such a speech as . Mr. 
Burnett uttered at Truro. The means are out of all 
proportion to the end. An easy walk — say a couple 
of miles at most, is quite as much exertion as such a 
performance would justify. The most prominent topic 
was his personal complaint against the Conference; on 
which it is not necessary to remark at length. Nobody 
can come to any conclusion upon a statement of this 
kind, in which we have only Mr. Burnett's own story, 
without any of the evidence against him. Supposing, 
however, that the case on both sides had been presented 
in full, I should not feel quite certain that a miscellaneous 
crowd gathered in the Truro Music Hall constitutes a. 
sufficiently grave and authoritative court of appeal to 
reverse the decisions of the Wesleyan Conference. I 
fear such proceedings can be regarded only as a waste of 
time, both to the speakers and the audience." 

'' But though Mr. Burnett's personal narrative is of no 
great interest, he gives some importance to his address by 
propounding a new scheme for altering the constitution of 
the Conference, and bringing it more into harmony with 
the views of the Reformers. Now, considering how many 
schemes of this kind have been devised, and that the 
author of this last project had all the others before him 
when framing its details, and might therefore be expected 
to originate some grand and comprehensive plan, one 
could but feel curious to learn the particulars. Mr. Bur- 
nett modestly informed the meeting that he could not 
himself claim the credit of this fortunate suggestion, 
but that it comes from a friend of his, ' a wise man, 
who knows,' he says, Uhe constitution of Methodism 
thoroughly, and understands it throughout' Such at 
least are the words of the report ; though after an assu- 
rance that a man ' knows a thing thoroughly,' it would 
generally be thought superfluous to add, that he ' under- 


Stands it throughout' Perhaps, however, the speaker had 
a design in the duplication, — to intimate die amazing pro- 
fundity of this man's knowledge. Well, the sdieme is as 
f<^ows: — 'The preachers who have travelled fourteen 
years are to stand up in a body in the Conference, and 
demand the dissolution of the legal Hundred.' This is 
the long and the short of the plan. Why the dissolution 
of the Hundred should be demanded at all ; or why, if 
demanded, it should only be by preachers of fourteen 
years' standing ; or what good could result from such a 
dissolution, either to the fourteen years' men themselves, 
or to anybody else ; are little points to which Mr. Burnett 
makes no allusion. He says, the sage propounder of this 
scheme, in looking forward to its consequences, is of 
opinion that if the fourteen years' preachers were to get 
up in this way in the Conference, tiiey would at first be 
laughed at This I should think very likely, unless 
laughter were repressed, by a conviction that these men, 
by some mysterious visitation, were all gone mad together. 
Then, he says, on finding their demands resisted, they 
should all take up their hats, walk out of the Conference, 
and go to meet the Reform Delegates. Whether the 
Conference would feel justified in allowing men who had 
made such a display as this, to go at large and issue forth 
in a body in the streets, is a question which would pro- 
bably be felt as somewhat embarrassing; but presuming 
that no personal restraint would be thought necessary, it 
seems clear enough that the modem Delegates are just 
the kind of people whom these unfortunate men would 
then be in a fit state to join." 

'' Such is the latest scheme for revising the constitntioii 
of Methodism, and whidi Mr. Burnett has had the honor 
of propounding to a Cornish audience. The man who 
can detect in it any glimmering of common sense, most 
have keener optics than mine. My objection is, not that 


it is difficult or impracticable, but that it is unintelligible 
and silly. Yet the Truro audience are reported as having 
saluted this unmeaning prattle with cheers. Johnson said 
that when Wilke's hearers "could not understand him, 
they still cheered, presuming that he tneant revolution.*' 

'' But while Mr. Bumetf s statement does not present 
so complete a view of the case between him and the Con- 
ference as to enable the reader to come to any conclusion » 
its tone is yet so moderate, and he expresses himself with 
so much considerate feeling, that it is clear as an agitator 
he will never succeed. His abilites, slender as they are, 
might sustain him ; but other qualifications are necessary, 
in which he lags at a great distance behind his predeces- 
sors. The buffoonery of Everett, the inventive fancy of 
Dunn, the brutal energy of Griffith, — to these accom- 
plishments he has no pretension. What time and training 
may do, it is impossible to say ; but at present it seems a 
hopeless case. He has evidently a respect for truth, a 
delicacy in dealing with character, and a reverence for 
sacred things, which will stand much in the way of his 
advancement With these qualities he has weak feelings, 
and a very infirm judgment Charles Lamb notices, as a 
mark of the lowest order of minds, that when they aposta- 
tize in religious matters, they apostatize ally and think they 
never can be far enough away from their former associates. 
So Mr. Burnett, in leaving the Conference, throws himself 
into tlie ranks of the agitators. Did it never occur to 
him that there might be a medium, — that though the Con- 
ference were wrong, it was not a necessary inference that 
its enemies were right If he has not made these dis- 
coveries, they will break upon him ere long. Unless 
I have formed too favourable an opinion of him, he shews 
marks of correct taste and feeling, — qualities which will 
soon make his new connexions very unpalatable. For 
anything Mr. Burnett may do or say, the world will never 


be much the better nor much the worse ; but for his own 
comfort and credit, I should be glad to see him engage 
in some more honourable vocation. — ^I am, Sir,** &c., &c 
''Dec. i6th, 185 1." 

The letters concluded with one upon the general ques- 
tion, addressed to a Wesleyan Reformer : — 

" Dear Sir, — I suppose I may consider myself at liberty, 
on the ground of an old friendship, to address you upon 
the unhappy dissensions in which we have lately been 
involved, and in which I venture to think you have gone 
in a wrong direction. I claim the privilege of speaking 
to you with great freedom, and feel certain that you will 
excuse my plainness of speech, from a conviction that I 
can have no feeling inimical to your happiness." 

" You have recently withdrawn yourself from a religious 
community with which you had lived many years in 
peaceful and happy union. You profess to have done 
this from a conviction that some considerable changes are 
wanted in its discipline ; and you say also that in order 
to effect such changes you have placed yourself in a hos- 
tile attitude until they are made, with an intention in that 
case to return. In this, I think you make two capital errorsw 
In the first place, you admit that the grievances you com- 
plain of are such as do not effect your personal comfort, 
but relate only to the general discipline of the Connexion. 
But as the benefits of membership are mainly of a per- 
sonal kind, and as whatever aids your individual advance- 
ment in the Christian life is of infinitely more im|>ortaiice 
than any forms of church government, you renounce the 
most valuable of your religious privileges for the sake of 
an abstract and merely theoretical good Is this not 
giving up the substance for the shadow ? What would 
you think of a man who, living under a government which 
gave him ample protection in person and property, should 


emigrate to another country merely because the theory of 
the constitution was not quite in harmony with his own 
views ? Again, if you are sincere in your desire to bring 
about the alterations you propose, could you take a less 
likely way of effecting them, than that of separating your- 
self from the community ? In the body, you might avail 
yourself of all legitimate means of enforcing your views ; 
out of it you can exert no influence whatever. Suppose a 
party of political reformers in Parliament, on failing to 
carry their measure, should quit the House and make 
their appeals only to the people, would this add to the 
chances of success, or destroy them?" 

'' So far then I must consider that you have acted unrea- 
sonably. But without remark on these points I pass to a 
consideration •of graver importance. Having placed 
yourself in this position towards the community you have 
left, in what spirit and temper have you carried on the 
controversy? To what extent you may be personally 
implicated in the proceedings of your party, I do not 
know. I can judge of them only as a whole, from the 
conduct of their leading men, and from the manner in 
which their views are advocated by a weekly journal 
which professes to represent them." 

*'In 1849 you thought the expelled ministers had been 
dealt with unjustly by the Conference. You professed a 
great personal esteem for them ; and I think it was much 
more from this feeling than any correct knowledge of 
their case that you sided with them so openly. But now 
two years have elapsed, and in their passage have shed a 
clear light on the character of these men. Estimating 
their qualifications as religious teachers by their doings 
since their expulsion, can you think there is any cause for 
regret that they were not retained in the Wesleyan 
community ? Is any church so fallen and degraded that 
it could be honoured by their services ? Not only can 


there be no reasonable regret at their severance from our 
ministry, but if it were possible to look into men's hearts 
and see that any other preachers in our ranks were 
capable of acting, in the event of their expulsion, as they 
have acted, who but would rejoice at their instant dis- 
missal ? The existence of such a spirit would be a moral 
disqualification of more weight than any breach of dis- 

'^A comparison has sometimes been made between 
these men and the seceding ministers of the Scottish 
Kirk. It is said, they shewed the same heroic spirit, and 
are entitled to equal honor. I wish, for their sakes and 
for the sake of thousands they have deceived, that this 
was true ; but I am at a loss to discover the resemblance. 
The Scotch ministers quitted their church because they 
refused to compromise a great religious principle ; tiiese 
men, because they were not allowed to circulate anony- 
mous calumnies and set up trumpery periodicals at the 
cost of their brethren's reputation. The former set them- 
selves, on their separation, quietly and devotedly to the 
spiritual instruction of their peopie ; the latter went through 
the land pouring out torrents of abuse upon their old 
friends, and trying to set them and their flocks at variance 
wherever they went The first have borne the trials of 
their lot with a fortitude which has won for them the 
admiration of all Protestant Christendom ; the last have 
made the country ring with their imaginary grievances^ 
and sacrificed the peace of multitudes to their intense 
selfishness and vanity." 

*' You must be familiar with the style of their addresses 
since they entered on their agitating career. Now, as an 
honest man, having respect for truth and justice, I ask 
you to say candidly what you think of them. 1 need not 
recapitulate the staple topics of their harangues ; they are 
patent to all the world. Garbled accounts of the causes 


of their expulsion, ridicule and abuse showered upon almost 
every man of eminence in the Connexion, inuendoes and 
insinuations of the vilest kind, where it would have been 
impolitic or dangerous to make direct charges; inflam- 
matory appeals to the worst passions of their hearers ; 
wholesale allegations of oppression and tyranny against 
the Wesleyan ministers as a body ; persuasives to annoy 
and harass them by refusing any pecuniary support; 
attempts in the same way to damage the Connexional 
funds, especially those for the missions and for the main- 
tainance of disabled preachers, the two which, being most 
sacred, have naturally called forth their hostility in its 
bitterest form ; — ^these, with all sorts of tittle-tattle stories 
and gossiping scandals, have been the burden of their 
apostolical discourses. And all this has been done with a 
professed desire to reform Methodism ! And is this the 
agency by which you aim at changing the Methodistic laws? 
Do you trace in it the ordinary relation of cause to effect, 
of means to end ? But I need not ask such a question. 
You know that this profession is now too thin a disguise to 
deceive anybody. It never was sincere, and only people 
of the greenest hue can be deluded by it Yet, as a con- 
venient fiction, it is still kept up. You still like to call your- 
selves '' Reformers." There is something taking in the 
title ; and it favors a notion that you are in some way 
promoting religious freedom. You indulge a pleasant 
.vanity in the thought, and give yourselves the airs of 
patriots. There is so much talk and bustle about the 
cause and the movement^ that people take it for granted 
there must be some cause, and that something, though 
they do not know what, is moving. It would be well if 
the worst of this was a little harmless vanity ; but unfor- 
tunately jou are open to a graver charge. Under the 
pretence of a love for religious liberty, your proceedings 
are marked by the most revolting tyranny. I am not 


using too strong a word. Do you think that tyranny can 
be exercised only by large and powerful bodies, or by 
people high in authority ? May there not be tyrants in cot- 
tages as well as upon thrones? May not any man of dogged 
pertinacity and revengefiil temper, become a tyrant over 
any other man, or over great numbers of men ? Suppose 
the case of a person who had conceived against yourself a 
mortal enmity. Imagine him going through all the towns 
and villages in your neighbourhood, covering you with 
ridicule and abuse for the entertainment of promiscuous 
crowds, and loading your name with as much opprobium 
as could be heaped upon it, so as just to keep clear of the 
law. Suppose this going on from day to day, from month 
to month, from year to year, the tide of slander still 
flowing upon your reputation. Would you not feel that 
this was a most grievous tyranny ? Yet is it not precisely 
in this way that the most eminent men in our Connexion 
have been assailed by men whom you pay to perambulate 
the country upon this honorable service ? I have before 
me a paper called the Bridgewater Tinus, from which it 
appears that about three weeks ago one of your most 
ardent apostles, Mr. Dunn, collected the people of that 
town to favor them with a character of Dr. Bunting. A 
person having no other knowledge of the Doctor than 
what could be gathered from Mr. Dunn's account, would 
picture him as a grim, haughty, ecclesiastical despot, 
ruling the Wesleyan Connexion with a rod of iron, and 
bending preachers and people under a selfish, grasping 
policy. Now there are few men who can afford to be 
more indifferent to such attacks than this venerable man ; 
but to all good men a good name is so precious that you 
cannot suppose him to be insensible to its value. You 
know how delicate a thing is ministerial reputation, and 
how easily it may be damaged by an artful style of mob- 
oratory. Nor can you be ignorant of the infamous use 


to which that power has been turned. In this respect 
the visits of the expelled ministers have been felt like a 
moral pestilence." 

" If I may speak of your party as a religious conmiunity, 
it is certainly one in which religion appears under a new 
and strange aspect Your prosperity seems to consist not 
so much in any good you are doing among yourselves as 
in the mischief you are doing to others. Whatever 
ordinarily produces pain and regret in Christian men, is 
with you an occasion of joy and triumph. A peaceful 
society is disturbed and split into hostile parties, and at 
once you raise a note of victory. There is a deficiency 
in a missionary collection, and you are filled with glee. A 
circuit is in difficulties, or a preacher and his family are 
embarrased, or the widows' annuities are reduced ; and 
these things make you wild with delight In quiet times 
and places you are silent and cheerless ; but as soon as a 
sound of discord is heard, and feuds and disasters occur, 
you begin to revive, and things with you are ''looking up." 
This is surely a new style of Christianity, and if you think 
it an improved one, would it not be well to embody its 
tenejts in a formal creed ? The world is not yet so wedded 
to the old system but that a bold enunciation of your prin- 
ciples might bring an unexpected succession of adherents." 

'' Whatever you may think of this suggestion, depend 
upon it, you must do something more than you are now 
doing, if you wish to be heard of ten years hence. No 
party can survive merely on the ground of its enmity to 
another. A hint has been thrown out, which may be worth 
your consideration, — ^whether by a union with some 
other small unpopular bodies your reversionary prospects 
might not be improved. There are, for instance, the 
homceopathists, who maintain that the great want of the 
times is a reform in medicine ; but whose theories make 
hardly any impression upon the public bowels. There are 


also the advocates of phonetic reform, who complain that 
the country is held in slavery by the present modes of 
spelling, and with whom I fancy many of your friends will 
sympatiiize, as in some local specimens of Reform litera- 
ture which have come under my notice, I have remarked 
a similar impatience of orthographical restraints. If you 
could in any way unite with these people, and make a &ir 
start altogether for reform in religion, reform in medicine, 
and reform in letters, — ^upon a great catholic basis like 
this, you might possibly take a permanent stand I do not 
go into particulars as, if you approve of the plan it is your 
business rather than mine to work out the details." 

'' But the freedom of my remarks may impose too heavy 
a tax upon your friendship. If your errors were ten times 
as many they would not prevent the expression of my 
personal good wishes. Old remembrances come over me 
while I write, and shed a redeeming light upon what you 
now are, by turning to your former and better self. You 
are the victim of bad company. I look to your heart, 
after all, for correcting the infirmities of your head. Evfl 
])assions would not have misled you had they not come in 
the garb of generous feelings. But as a storm cannot be- 
come the natural state of the atmosphere, I will wait for it 
to pass. Last night the winds were roaring in the trees, 
the sea was swept with tempests, and the sky darkened 
with clouds and rain. It seemed as if nature were given 
over, a helpless prey, to the fury of the elements. But 
this evening the sun is shedding his parting beams upon a 
landscape as tranquil as the blue heavens above it So 
die away the storms of human passion ! — ^so the hurricanes 
of the mind, even in their fiercest march, are on their way 
to a haven of repose ! That such a haven may be at no 
great distance from your present wanderings, is the sincere 
wish of yours ever truly." 

''/any. %th, 1852." 


The motto to these Letters was a quotation from Pascal, 
to the effect, that laughing at persons who profane religion 
by their extravagant sayings and doings, is a very differ- 
ent thing from laughing at religion itself The majority 
will admit this, though there will always be a few whose 
minds are cast in that matter-of-fact mould that makes the 
line of demarcation between these two things to be scarcely 
perceptible. Certainly, there were not wanting in the 
defence of Methodism and its leading supporters, able 
tongues and practised pens; but its present assailants were 
men of a peculiar stamp, who thought proper to conduct 
their warfare against the Conference by a course of tactics 
hitherto unknown in church controversy. While other 
writers, therefore, confined themselves mainly to a vindi- 
cation of the principles which the three expelled were 
everywhere denouncing, there was still some good service 
to be done by one who would fully expose to the public 
view the absurdity as well as the palpable wickedness of 
their proceedings. It never seems to have entered into the 
thought of these reverend agitators, that the very means 
they adopted for securing the public sympathy would only 
leave on every reflecting miod a full conviction of their 
own worthless characters, had no such conviction existed 
before. No just and righteous warfare ever was or could 
be conducted with such weapons as they handled \ and 
although they succeeded well enough in the mere work of 
rousing the passions of that low and ignorant portion of the 
conmiunity to whom something of a stiring and exciting 
character never comes amiss, yet as far as the real cause 
between themselves and the Conference was concerned, 
they were at once condemned out of their own mouths.* 

* A gentlemftn who attended one of their grand meetings in GomwaU 
was asked by a friend who met him on his return, what he thought of 
the three men and their canae. He replied, that as to their oanse^ he 
knew too little of Methodism to say much about it ; but that as to the 

men, they were three , in Csot, employing an epithet generally 

oon^ered to be one of the pUduest in the language. 


These '' storms of human passion," as the concluding 
Letter calls them, have now very nearly died away , and 
if they presented nothing more than a record of strife and 
bitterness between individuals, it were a thoroughly ungrate- 
ful task to revive the memory of scenes and circumstances 
which all would rather wish to be buried and forgotteiL 
But in questions affecting the peace, purity, and progress 
of the Churches, the good and the evil are alike stereo- 
typed for the page of history, and once placed on record 
can never be blotted out It is not only impossible, but 
undesirable, that the case should be otherwise. The events 
of one generation are the lessons of another ; and the 
calamities to which a church has been subjected through 
the reckless conduct of men who would move heaven and 
earth to gratify their vindictive passions, will not be vrith- 
out a salutary effect upon others, when the main agents in 
this unhallowed strife have long passed beyond the reach 
of human praise or blame. 



The papers thus far given to the reader have been carried 
on consecutively as far as the order of the subjects would 
permit It only remains to supply a few others of a mis- 
cellaneous character. 

Thomas Moore (1827.) 

Moore is the greatest of our living poets, and a new 
work from his pen is hailed like the appearance of a new 
star. None of our bards have done so much towards 
delighting the heart with discoveries of its own undreamt 
of treasures, opening its hidden springs of feeling, and 
peopling it with images of beauty. We have none who 
can with equal felicity go down into its troubled depths, 
and from its very sorrows extract the balm which, hid like 
the invisible honey in the flower, it no sooner administered 
than it turns tears to smiles and sadness to song. The 
divine art of the poet is too frequently undervalued. We 
ourselves class the children of song among the greatest 
benefactors of mankind. They, more than any other 
writers, increase the stock of national happiness. His- 
torians, Essayists, and Divines, are all excellent in their 
spheres, but how few understand and appreciate their 
merits compared with the countless number in whose 
bosoms the spirit of poetry is become a distinct and 
powerful passion. The pages of Bacon and Locke, be- 
strewed as they are with the richest manna of wisdom, 
have not conferred on mankind a tithe of the happiness 
felt by the thousands who have delighted in the beauties 


and danced to the music of the Irish Melodies. Poetry 
is the language of the heart Its subjects are the hopes 
and fears and passions that live and breathe in every 
human bosom. And therefore it is, and ever will be, more 
popular than any other species of literature. Well was it 
said by Lord Chatham, '' Let me make the songs of a 
nation, and I will not care who makes its laws." How 
many a heart has been animated to strength and victory 
by our national sea-songs. How many an humble and un- 
lettered Christian has been comforted in life, and even in 
death, by that glorious burst of inspiration, beginning, 
''Vital spark," &c The more purely intellectual that 
knowledge becomes, the more fewer will be its admirers 
and pursuers. The strength of a person's intellect may 
often be tested by gradually withdrawing it from the broad 
roads of poetry and fiction to the higher and more difficult 
paths of science. How many a man who has wandered 
widely in the fields of the novelist and the poet, finds him- 
self cramped and fettered among the facts of history, 
breathes with difficulty within the severe rules and limits 
of philosophy, and absolutely expires in the fixed air of a 

metaphysical abstraction ! To Mooie 

belongs the high honor of having opened up a new path 
in English literature. The gorgeous splendor and magni- 
ficence of oriential scenery — its natural beauties — its won- 
ders of art — its temples, and palaces, and pyramids — 
mysterious in their structure and mighty in their decay, — 
were wanting to lend their inspiration to the Poet, and be 
" married to immortal verse." Fifty years since, a volume 
was put forth expressly for the purpose of rendering the 
richly poetical and figurative language of the east fiuniliar 
to the British Muses. But it was a mere vocabulary of 
glittering words and stray metaphors. The path was still 
open to one worthy of treading it, and Moore was the first 
to enter it with success. Richly did it reward his ad>'en' 


turous attempt Fountains flashed before him, and flowers 
sprung up beneath him at every step. Around him lay 
the talismans at whose bidding came voices of love and 
forms of beauty, and ministered to him abundantly. . . . 
We are not blind admirers of the genius of this distin- 
guished poet But with his failures as a political writer — 
his rancorous and ungrateful slanders as a satirist — ^and 
the impure and unholy strains which in his earlier days 
were warbled forth by his licentious muse — ^we can at pre- 
sent have nothing to do. Polluted as the medium may be 
through which the inspirations of genius are delivered, 
genius itself must ever demand our homage. However 
debased and vitiated by the corrupt influence of human 
depravity, it is still the noblest ornament of humanity — 
the attribute which connects man with angels — and is in 
itself a sublime revelation of a loftier and purer state of 

Address at the Opening of the Camborne 
Literary Institution (1842). 

I remember to have met with a remark made by Sir 
John Herschel, on the opening of a similar institution to this 
at Windsor, that the human mind is so constituted as to 
demand recreation in some shape — that its natural appe- 
tency for enjoyment would compel nurture from some 
source or other ; and that therefore it is the province of 
wisdom to direct it into those channels whence it may 
draw the most pure and invigorating aliment Now this 
truth is of so much importance that I cannot but regard 
all social institutions as imperfect which do not give it a 
practical recognition. In legislating on popular education 
the mind is too commonly regarded as an inert power, 
a dormant energy, which if not quickened into life will 
slumber on in a state of inactivity. It is not so. It is of 


all powers the most essentially vital and active. It 
cannot rest in a motionless equilibrium. By a necessity 
of its nature it must be always in exercise. As PaJey says 
of infants, that they are alwa3rs walking without having 
any where to go, and talking without having anything 'to 
say, so the mind is constantly tr3ring and putting forth its 
faculties even before it knows their nature or their use ; 
and as it acquires strength, it will direct them to 
worthy or unworthy purposes. Its energy cannot be 
smothered, and if not active for good it must be active for 
evil. The intellectual soil may remain uncultivated, but 
it will not therefore be unproductive. We need but look 
around us to see some of the crops that are native to an 
uncultured soil. What are Chartism and Socialism but 
the noxious weeds that spring from the ground where no 
care has been taken that it should produce healthful fruits? 
And much as we may lament the prevalence of popular and 
mischievous delusions, what right have we to complain 
that if we have taken no pains to sow good seed, there 
should spring forth the fruits of bitterness, — that the tree 
which we have neglected to train into shapely appearance 
should shoot up into deformed and monstrous growth? 
The uneducated masses are conscious of a mind stirring 
within them — to use the words of Bums — "Like the 
gropings of the blind Cyclops in his cavern " ; and if we 
refuse to couch the giant, what wonder we should 
sometimes suffer from his blind misguided strength ? 
Suppose that in this parish every individual was able to 
read and understand the "Vicar of Wakefield," what 
would be the result ? You might send back your police — 
you might disband your constabulary — ^you might abolish 
your petty sessions. Dr. Primrose and Mr. Burchell would 
keep the whole parish in order. The man who could enjoy 
that tale could not be a disturber of the public peace, 
simply because elegance of moral taste, and low brutal 


habits do not naturally coalesce in the same individual It 
is therefore of the first importance that the mind be fur- 
nished with pure and healthful pleasures, instead of those 
that are mischievous and debasing; and this excellent 
purpose your institution answers. The communication of 
knowledge is the cheapest of all charities, because it en- 
riches the receiver without impoverishing the giver. It is 
one of the most politic kinds of benevolence, because the 
good it produces is reflected back in a variety of forms on 
ourselves. And it is the most catholic in spirit, because it 
binds men together by the purest of all relationship, that 
of mind to mind ; and apart from all social, political, or 
religious distinction, establishes among all men a common 
brotherhood on the ground of their common humanity. 
While thinking of the benefits of this institution, and of the 
pure happiness which it is the means of diffusing, I have 
been carried back in memory to that delightful period 
when through the medium of books we made our first 
excursion into the province of the imagination — ^when we 
passed the boimds of sense and reality into that new and 
brighter world of which genius is alone the creator, and 
which is peopled only with the beings on whom it has set 
the seal of its own 'immortality. No impressions are 
more durable than those which were then stamped upon 
the mind. The gravest events in the history of our times 
do not leave such imperishable traces. To preserve the 
recollection of social and legislative changes we require 
chronicles, and annual registers, and artificial aids of all 
kinds. But who forgets the period when he first traced 
the fortunes of Bunyan's Pilgrim, or wept over the fate of 
Paul and Virginia, or listened to the tale of Wordsworth's 
" Margaret." Suppose it were possible to serve a process 
of ejectment upon the memory, and it lay at our choice 
whether it should be dispossessed of the images of some 
grave historical personages, or of some others who figure 


only among the impalpable creations of the mind, — I 
think there is but little doubt as to what the decision 
would be. Suppose such a choice to lie between Arch- 
bishop Laud, who stands prominently on the pages of 
history, and Dominie Sampson, whose only existence is 
in the fictions of Scott, — I should for my part be content 
to let the Archbishop vanish rather than part with the 
warm-hearted Dominie. It would be making a gap in 
one's historical recollections to part with James the Firsts 
but if the choice lay between his Majesty and a country- 
man of his, — Bailie Jarvie, I should feel compelled to 
give royalty the go-by, and keep hold of the honest 
Bailie, and his father ''the deacon." I do not think I 
should long hesitate whether to part with Robinson 
Crusoe and his man Friday, or George the Second and 
his man Sir Robert Walpole. If this institution assumed 
no other purpose than to stimulate the agreeable exercise 
of the imagination in those whose means or opportunities 
debar them from severer pursuits, I should think it worthy 
of all the labor and cost that have been bestowed on it. 
The grand distinction of life — ^that in which all other dis- 
tinctions merge — ^is between those who are compelled to 
earn their bread by the sweat of their brow, and those who 
are exempt from that necessity ; and the most comprehen- 
sive benevolence — that which is conceived in the finest 
spirit of humanity — ^is the communication by the latter to 
the former of whatever tends to lighten the burden of 
the primitive curse. Now, if I imderstand rightly the 
purpose of this institution, its doors are open to the 
mechanic, • to the poor, to the husbandman, to the 
laborers in every branch of industry. Wherever the dis- 
position is found to make the benefits which it offers 
available, thither those benefits are allowed to flow. And 
I confess that (apart from those subjects of contemplation 
that have reference to our fixture existence) I know 


of no greater blessing that you can confer upon the labor- 
ing man than to light up within his mind that inner world 
of thought and feeling into which he may retire at will, 
and find a compensation for the asperities of outward 
fortune; to confer upon him the power by which, while 
his hand is busy at the loom, or the anvil, or the plough, 
his mind is following with Spencer the fortunes of the Red 
Cross Knight, or pursuing with Fenelon the dream-like 
adventures of Telemachus, or wandering with Milton 
through Paradise. If I thought I were speaking to any 
who deem it idle talk to speak thus of the unsubstantial 
beings who exist only in the sphere of imagination, I would 
tell them that to me scarcely anything speaks more im- 
pressively of the brevity of our own existence than when I 
compare it with the undying creations of the poet or the 
painter. An incident occurs to me, which is recorded by. 
some traveller in Sicily, who visited a monastery there in 
which are preserved some of the portraits of Titian. The 
aged monk who conducted him to the picture-room turned 
to him while gazing on the canvass, and said, ''When I 
think of the many generations of my brethren who have 
successively exhibited these faces, which still stand here 
in the freshness of life while we are passing away to the 
tomb, it appears to me that they are the substance and we 
are the shadows." I see in an institution like this a practical 
testimony to a truth which ought never to escape our 
observation, — ^that mind is the great instrument on which 
the advancement of society depends. In the surrounding 
universe I see nothing so glorious as the mind by which it 
is surveyed; nor, apart from that mind, would the varied 
phenomena of the universe have any meaning or signifi- 
cance. The slightest change in the structure of the human 
intellect would inflict an injury upon nature which storms, 
or whirlwinds, or earthquakes, or any of its most destruc- 
tive agencies, would but faintly image. Suppose there 



were withdrawn from the mind the powers of abstraction 
or analysis, leaving all our other faculties untouched, — 
why, we can hardly estimate the disastrous consequences 
that would accrue to the world around us. The with- 
drawal of those faculties would incapacitate us for the 
science of number and magnitude, and without these 
mechanical genius would be useless. Our mineral treasures 
would still be imbedded in the earth, but for want of the 
mechanism by whose aid we explore them they would be 
sealed in impenetrable darkness and would thus be 
virtually annihilated. The sea with all its waves would 
still murmur around us, but no bark would again venture 
on its trackless expanse, and the highway of all the world 
would become as perfect a solitude as if wrapped in ice 
from pole to pole. We should still see the sun shining in 
the heavens, the moon walking in brightness, and one star 
differing from another in glory ; but they would appear to 
lis only as so many inexplicable riddles. And thus, 
though untouched itself, all nature would be eclipsed 
* through the obscuration of the light by which alone its 
mysteries can be interpreted and its latent powers brought 
into effective action. 

Dr. Channing (1842.) 

It is with feelings of deep regret that we see announced 
in the American journals the death of that distinguished 
ornament of his country and his times, Dr. EUery 
Channing. Men like him appear but at such rare and 
distant intervals, that the whole commonwealth of 
humanity lament their loss. '* They darken nations when 
they die." No public man in the States sustained so high 
and pure a reputation as Dr. Channing. In any age or 
country his great intellectual endoi^ments would have 
lifted hira into fame ; but his true fame does not rest so 


much upon their mere possession as upon their consecra- 
tion to the enduring interests of his race. He valued 
them only as means to an end — ^and that end the freedom 
and happiness of mankind The spirit of philanthropy 
never glowed more warmly in a human heart To him 
all men were brethren. The claims of man, as man^ were 
stronger than any founded on mere external distinctions. 
His intense sympathy with humanity, whether suffering 
from oppression, or error, or even from crime, breathes 
through and gives a tone and coloring to all his writings. 
Every word comes direct from his heart; and though 
sometimes differing from his views, we are compelled to 
respect, to admire, nay even to love him. No man so 
soon makes himself felt as ih^ friend oi the reader. In this 
respect he equals him, the portrait of whose character is 
perhaps the noblest of all his writings — Fenelon. In his 
most elaborate performances this pervading spirit of a 
living humanity never escapes us for a moment He 
seems indeed to have been fitted for some of his highest 
efforts as much by his moral as by his intellectual qualities. 
He understood the catholic temper of Milton by likeness, 
— the essential selfishness of Napoleon by contrast His 
denunciations of slavery are uttered in the tone of one 
who would deem it as great a calamity to impose a yoke 
as to endure it The best parts of his writings are those 
which reflect most faithfully the hues of his own feelings. 
The Americans may well be proud of Dr. Channing, 
for apart from his moral merits he is with reference to his 
intellectual claims alone, the first man on their rolls of 
fame. We say this with a distinct remembrance of the 
achievements of Washington Irving, who is probably the 
only one besides for whom such an honor would be 
claimed. In England, he did not for a long time, win 
the reputation he merited. This was partly to be attri- 
buted to the ungenerous tone in which his works were 


spoken of by our leaxling literary journals. The treat- 
ment he received from the Edinburgh Review was shabby 
in the extreme. It made no direct attack, but attempted 
to " damn him with faint and feeble praise." In the 
first notice of his writings which appeared in that 
journal, the longest extract given as a specimen was taken 
from his sermon to children, a discourse of singular merit 
in itself, but not calculated to display any of the higher 
qualities of his mind. The Quarterly has not, to our 
recollection, noticed him otherwise than incidentally. 
On one occasion it spoke of him ''as one of those 
men who are a blessing to their age and country," — an 
encomium which makes its otherwise unbroken silence 
respecting him the more reproachful. Slowly, however, 
and on dieir own merits alone, the value of his works 
become appreciated, and they are now "beyond the reach 
of praise or censure." 

The loss of Dr. Channing at this particular juncture will 
be more especially regretted by all who are watching the 
tendency of events to the extinction of slavery in the 
United States. He had recently posted himself in the 
foreground of the contest between the slaveholders and 
the abolitionists. His public addresses on this question 
are exhaustive of the subject, and through them ''he 
being dead yet speaketh." The seed he has thus 
sown cannot fail to bear fruit From his silent grave his 
testimony against that giant iniquity will still be given, 
nor can it be given in vain. 

Thomas Campbell (1844.) 

T^e reader who has looked through the obituary list in 
the journals of the last month may have noticed the foL 
lowing brief record among the catalogue of persons undis- 
tinguished save by the transient interest with which death 
invests the humblest being it touches. 


"At Boulogne, Thomas Campbell, Esq., author of 
* The Pleasures of Hope,' aged 54." 

We must be excused if we turn aside a little from the 
subjects which claim our weekly notice, to devote a few 
passing remarks to this melancholy event We cannot 
imitate the brevity with which our brethren of the press 
record it A statesman dies — and all the journals of the 
kingdom are filled with the mournful details. A great 
poet passes away — and these two lines are all that tell 
the loss. Yet, if all our living statesmen were to die to- 
morrow, their places might be re-filled the day after, 
and we should be unconscious of any loss that had not 
been repaired ; while the loss of a great poet is total and 
irreparable. " Of all the members of mankind," says Sir 
William Temple, "that live within the compass of a 
thousand years, for one man tliat is bom capable of 
making a great poet, there may be a thousand bom 
capable of making as great generals and mmisters of state 
as any in history.*' 

Thomas Campbell had in him the soul of a true 
poet He was an honor to the country that gave him 
birth, and his memory is now a part of that country's 
renown. He had the great fortune to shoot almost at 
once to the zenith of his fame. His " Pleasures of Hope" 
placed him instantly, on its appearance, among the master 
spirits of his time. In one respect, his sudden fame was 
too great It filled him with a fear of losing it by his after 
efforts. The standard which he had himself erected for 
the trial of his future productions was so high that he 
feared to fall short of it " Campbell" said Sir Walter 
Scott, " is afraid of the shadow that his own fame has cast 
before him; he has wings that would bear him to the 
skies, but he is afraid of venturing off his perch." But we 
see no reason why, because a man gives the world one 
great poem, they are entitled to demand from him a 


second. If he produces another, well ; but if not, the 
intrinsic worth of the first is not lessened by it The 
fame of "The Pleasures of Hope" was enough for one 
man. It is not however the whole of Campbell's fame. 
His noble lyrics "The Battle of the Baltic" and "Ye 
Mariners of England " will give him the most enviable 
portion of his immortality. We do not feel ourselves 
competent to say what are the very purest and richest 
bursts of inspiration in the whole compass of British song, 
but at the moment of writing we can remember nothing 
superior to these. When they were first sung they struck 
at once into the national heart ; and they will live there 
till it shall cease to beat To their stormy melody the 
blood ebbs and flows like the tides to the moon. 

Few men who have written so little have risen to such 
celebrity. A tiny volume contains the whole of CampbelL 
But it is a cabinet packed fiiU of essences. Between those* 
slender covers what forms of power and beauty are im« 
prisoned ! Open them and the whole field of sight is filled 
with the moving visions. The poet is the true magician. 
His talismans unlock at a touch the secrets of the great 
deep. He breathes upon a few common words, and what 
a glory they kindle. He flings a few sounds upon the 
air, and they become eternal melodies. 

Like his countryman Bums, he was a patriot His 
large humanity took fire at great wrongs and burned to 
avenge them. In the works of no other man of equal 
genius is there so large a portion traceable to a warm 
sympathy with the victims of political oppression. The 
struggling Greeks, the exiles of Poland, the few noble 
spirits of Spain, — they were all his brethren. Wherever 
freedom was battling with oppression, he rejoiced in its 
triumph or wept over its grave. 

We have referred only to those productions by which 
Campbell is most distingushed, — by which he will be 


best known to posterity. His other works abound with 
bright sprinklings of song, which alone would have placed 
him on a respectable level among the poets of the age. 
Next to his poems we value his criticisms on poetry, — 
those brief but spirited and suggestive notices prefixed to 
the " Specimens." His later prose works were not worthy 
of him. His genius burst into flower in the spring. 
Compared with his earlier efforts his later were failures. 
Other causes than a natural decay of his powers, have 
been assigned for this, — whether true or not, we feel no 
right to inquire. We have only to do with the poet, not 
with the man. There have not been wanting — shame to 
humanity 1 — ^men who could triumph over his mental fall. 
Of whatever seductions he might himself have been the 
victim, they had no influence on his writings. In his 
whole works there is not a line which dying he would 
wish to blot Contemporary with the courtezan muse of 
Moore and the profligacies of Byron, he kept the purity 
of his page inviolate. He sleeps in Westminster Abbey ; 
and while many have descended to their last abode with 
more funeral pomp, none have left a purer, and few a 
higher £ame, than that of Thomas Campbell. 

(Wesleyan Anniversary, Truro, 1845.) 

I think it impossible to witness the crowded audiences 
which from year to year assemble on these occasions, 
without having the conviction forced on my mind that the 
cause of Missions has now passed its transition state, and 
gone out of its nonage into the years of discretion ; that it 
now no longer occupies the debateable ground of specu- 
lation, but is ranked among our acknowledged duties, and 
is looked upon as worthy of the steady and general sup- 
port of the Christian world. If I were required to state 


the principal grounds on which I rest my humble support 
of Missions I should do so in this way, — ^that we profess 
to be followers of Him who came into this world to shed 
illumination, not merely on one people or on one pro- 
vince, or on any particular family of mankind, but to be 
the light of the whole world ; and that the spiritual 
blessings which He dispensed came with an injunction 
that as we have freely received, so we should freely give. 
And if you ask to whom we must go to impart tiiese 
blessings, the answer is furnished in the words of His own 
lips — "Go ye forth mto all the world and preach the 
gospel unto every creature." These simple words form 
the most elevated platform on which the argument for 
Christian Missions can be placed, and if we are animated 
with the spirit which they breathe, we may, in an assembly 
of this kind, without voice or sound, proceed to deposit 
our gifts upon the altar, every man as God has prospered 
him, and then part with the conviction that we have 
obeyed the requisitions of the Divine will. But as this 
duty is not yet perfectly recognised, I may advert to two 
or three particular arguments for the cause. We take 
broader grounds than an appeal merely to the members of 
Christian communities. Wherever there is a man interested 
in the spread of social freedom, who wishes well to the 
general interests of his kind, and who is anxious to pro- 
mote the advancement of science and intellectual cultiva- 
tion, — ^to that man we feel ourselves at liberty to appeal, 
because these minor blessings cannot be diffused so 
widely and efficiently by any means as by Christianity. 
Cast the eye over the world, and we shall find that when 
we have passed the limits of our religion we have passed 
the limits of whatever adorns or dignifies our common 
nature. All history and experience, since the introduc- 
tion of Christianity, concur in shewing that wherever 
Christianity has had the freest expression, there also has 


the human mind produced the richest and noblest fruits. 
In a country like our own, where this religion numbers 
its growth by centuries, it may reasonably be expected to 
put forth its natural accompaniments of schools, colleges, 
universities, churches, and chapels. But how comes it to 
pass that where we find these things we never find them 
alone ? — ^that where we find them there we find the halls 
of science, the galleries of art, the observatory of the 
astronomer, the laboratory of the chemist, the cell of the 
solitary student, and the workshop of the artizan? So 
that, whatever is original in discovery, or noble in inven- 
tion, — ^whatever is striking in conception or beautifiil in 
thought, — whatever are the productions of philosophic 
genius, of poetic inspiration, or imaginative art, we behold 
them all constellated and clustered around this religion. 
By an effort of &ncy we may summon before the eye a 
long array of Christian reformers, martyrs, philanthropists, 
and defenders of the faith ; but the procession will not 
stop with these. I can see one whose eye rolls in vain to 
find the day, whilst he sings 

" Of man's fizst disobedience, and the fruit 
Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste 
Brought death into the world, with aU our woe.** 

And there is Bacon, the prophet of Nature ; and Newton, 
crowned with stars ; and Addison, who first carried the 
light of Christian truth into the philosophy of daily life. 
And there is Watt, with his steam-engine, and Dalton, 
with his atomic theory ; and Davy, with his safety-lamp. 
Am I told that all this is an exaggeration of the fancy? 
Am I asked for arguments in proof of the natural connec- 
tion of Christianity with philosophy, science, and poetry ? 
I answer, that I am prepared with no arguments, but with 
the fact — which supersedes all reasoning — ^that wherever 
Christianity is, they are, and wherever it is not, they are 


not. I would advert to a topic which may not claim the 
attention of any other speaker. I refer to the condition 
of the wandering tribes of the house of Israel, in favor of 
whom a very general and increasing interest exists amongst 
the friends of missions in this country. To me there is 
something more touching in the judicial blindness of the 
Je:ws than in the natural blindness of the heathen. The 
one appears to be the darkness that has never been 
disturbed; the other, that intense gloom on a spot from 
which the sun has just withdrawn. Apart from other 
claims, there is something in the historical lineage of the 
Jew which creates for him a deep and lasting interest 
Look at the splendor of the lineage of our most illustrious 
houses, — for instance, the Howards, the Tudors, or Plan- 
tagenets; they all fade away before the historical splendor 
of the lineage of the humblest Israelite. The ruined 
thrones of all the great nations of antiquity are but as so 
many landmarks in the pathway of Jewish history. The 
Assyrian, the Persian, the Greek, the Roman — the Jew is 
before them all, and he survives them all. They have all 
been by turns his oppressors, and he has lived to write 
the record of his deliverance on the dust of their tombs. 
7^ have passed away, they survived not in their children, 
the souls of Empires have died. But ^^ remains the same, 
unchanged by time or circumstance. We meet him at 
this day, wearing the very looks and speaking the very 
tones of the men who marched in triumph with Moses 
through the Red Sea, or the captives who wept by the 
waters of Babylon. The Jewish women to this day reflect 
the forms of Sarah and of Esther, and the poor Israelite 
we pass in the streets has in his veins the very blood that 
flowed in the veins of Abraham. But we ought not to 
forget that our sympathy for the Jews should be greatly 
increased by the thought that we have stepped into their 
forfeited possessions. Do you ask where we are to send 


missionaries to the Jews ? Alas, the Arab has his desert, 
the Indian his forest, but Israel has no home, the people 
are wanderers and strangers in every land. It is gratifying 
to find that the Christian world is, however, beginning to 
take such interest in their case, and that, from the accounts 
of the deputation lately sent to the Continent by the 
Jewish Mission connected with the Free Church of Scot- 
land, whilst missionaries are debarred from approaching 
the natives, they are permitted free access to the Jews. 
This cheering fact fills me with hope of the speedy advent 
of a better and brighter day. The history of the Jews 
reminds me of that continental river, which, after running 
some hundreds of miles, is suddenly submerged and lost 
to the sight, but still works its way in silence and in 
darkness underneath, till at a great distance it rises again 
and flows on in its regular course. So the stream of Jewish 
history flows up to a certain point, and is then suddenly 
lost sight of; but it still silently works its way underneath 
till in the track of the future I see it emerge bright with 
prophetic light, and flowing on in brightness and glory 
until it mingles with that stream which makes glad the 
city of our God. The funds of this year show a marked 
increase, and their object is still the same — to diffuse a 
free Christianity throughout tlie world by a free ministry, 
— a religion which we believe is able to go alone. " I 
cannot conceive, " said Robert Hall, " of a revelation 
which is not able to be trusted by itself." Some think 
they may be content if they can maintain the position 
they have reached, without going further. But I do not 
think that we shall be so contented; and I believe that 
whenever the spirit of renovation comes to the Church, it 
will be heralded by a spirit of self-sacrifice of which we 
can scarcely as yet form any conception. I feel, as surely 
. as if by prophetic instinct, that the day is not far distant 
when we shall not be able to endure idol sacrifice and 

4^2 MKMOm OF 

worship to be continued in the sight of God, for if a 

single people or nation can be delivered from a &lse 

religion, why not the whole world ? Two or three 

centuries ago Scotland was delivered from the dominion of 

the Church of Rome, — a task much more difficult than 

that of delivering a heathen nation from a cart-load or 

two of wooden gods. And how was it done? Because 

John Knox and his associates calculated what they had 

to do, and trained up their energies accordingly. They 

were not content with cutting off a few streams and leaving 

the fountain-head still flowing ; but they resolved not to 

leave them an inch of ground, or stop till they had driven 

the pestilential heresy beyond the boundaries of their 

land And what do we want but the spirit of Knox to 

win the victory of Knox ? There are difficulties in the 

missionary's path, but none which Christian faith and 

hope cannot overcome. If the instruments with which 

we work are divine, what will be the effects ? Look at 

all the Christian churches and establishments throughout 

the world, and when you ask whence came those glorious 

spots that begem the moral horizon, trace the rays of light 

as they narrow back through the mists of antiquity till they 

all converge over the babe sleeping in the manger at 

Bethlehem — and then ask whether the divinity of the 

instruments is not authenticated ? The gospel, with silent 

but mighty power, shall spread around irresistibly, until 

the idols of eastern idolatry shall collapse and fade, and 

those of mystic Babylon shall totter to their fall, and it 

shall yet go on expanding in wider and wider circles till 

at the name of Jesus every knee shall bow, and every 

tongue confess that he is Lord, to the glory of God." 

The flight of time brings us to 1865 ; a long interval 
from the period when the letters on the Wesleyan Agita- 


tion were written, and during which, anything in the shape 
of composition for the press was mainly in the way of 
relaxation from other engagements. The general election 
which took place this year, was attended with some 
circumstances of more than ordinary interest, and as the 
writer was at that time occupied with business to a some- 
what greater extent than was beneficial to his health and 
spirits, he found it an agreeable diversion to draw up for 
his old acquaintance the IVifst Briton^ an elaborate article 
on the position and prospects of the Palmerston Govern- 
ment He entered into this question with all the zest 
which attached to the productions of earlier days ; and, 
although for many a year he had been rather a reader 
than a discusser of politics, the vigour of the article is 
perhaps, not surpassed by his best efforts on former 

The Elections. 

Liberalism or Conservatism ? Lord Palmerston or Lord 
Derby ? — ^these are the questions which the country has 
been called upon to decide ; and the answer has been 
most unequivocally given — Liberalism and Lord Palmers- 
ton. By Liberalism we understand political freedom, 
religious freedom, and commercial freedom. An amended 
representation, and exemption from obnoxious ecclesias- 
tical imposts, are what the nation expects in extension of 
the two former. The latter has been already so successfully 
opened up that its benefits have been presented to us in a 
palpable form. Free commerce is not now a mere 
notion in the public mind — ^it means wheat at sixteen 
shillings a bushel instead of twenty-four shillings, tea at 
half-a-crown instead of five shillings, sugar at sixpence a 
pound instead of a shilling, and French wine at a shilling 
a bottle instead of three and sixpence. Winthrop Praed 


says he once saw in a dream a happy land where twopenny 
loaves were sold for a penny. Liberalism is an approach 
to this state of things. We pronounce any rules of 
political economy to be sound ones, if by them a sovereign 
can obtain for us as much food and clothing as could have 
been bought for thirty shillings a generation ago. The 
grandest result of all the philosophy which can be brought 
to bear upon the subject is to enable us to make the most 
of our money. 

The last Parliament showed no improvement in the 
policy of our Conservatives. There was no good measure 
which they did not oppose, nor bad one which they did 
not support Happily, their numbers were never sufficient 
to give them a victory, and so it was not necessary to 
make an appeal to the country. Still, there were occasions 
in which parties were too nearly balanced for the safety 
of the Government ; and when a dissolution took place 
by mere efflux of time, we could but watch with the 
liveliest interests the currents of public feeling as indicative 
of our future policy. Whatever doubt may have been 
felt on the subject has been pleasantly removed. The 
result of the elections gives to the Ministry a working 
majority of seventy for the next parliament The Govern- 
ment is now so strong that we have no wish to see it 

We shall not weary ourselves by going over the stock 
topics of the electioneering speeches and addresses. But 
one word upon parliamentary reform. There is no violent 
excitement upon the subject ; but it is unreasonable to in- 
fer from this that the public do not feel a deep interest in 
it We do not remember to have seen an address by any 
Liberal candidate in which it was not prominent; and even 
by Conservative candidates it was generally alluded to, — 
many of them indeed acknowledging that something must 
be done in that direction, and offering to support any 


scheme that may meet with their approval; which we 
verily believe they will. Now surely after so much has 
been said it will be most unfortunate if nothing is done. 
We go into no details of the measure, but if some scheme 
should not be brought forward, sufficiently strong to give to 
the general intelligence of the people, whether in the 
working classes or any other, a weight in the representa- 
tation which it does not now possess, and also to smooth 
down such rugged inequalities as we witness amongst our- 
selves, in that while Bodmin returns two members to 
Parliament, Penzance, and Camborne, and Redruth, and 
St Austell have not between them a voice in the repre- 
sentation ; and if, when such a measure proposed, it be 
met by the Conservatives — as we expect it will be — with 
deadly hostility, and if the Liberals divide into small sec- 
tions, each one standing upon its own crotchet, and not 
yielding to a spirit of mutual concession, without which 
they know that nothing can be accomplished ; and if, as 
the result of such hostility and such divisions, the proposal 
be again shelved, then the next Parliament will close with 
a very cloudy and equivocal reputation. It will have 
created a general feeling of the insincerity of public men 
and the hollowness of all political profes§ions, of being 
deceived and betrayed in our just and reasonable hopes 
and expectations; and will thus have done more to 
alienate the confidence of the people, and tarnish the 
honor of the senate, than any parliament within living 

We must glance rapidly at some of the elections on 
which the public eye fixes with peculiar interest We 
hardly know a finer specimen of the majesty of the people 
to exhibit to an intelligent Frenchman, than to show him 
the first minister of the State, clothed virtually with 
greater power than the monarch, taking his carpet-bag in 
his hand on the dissolution of parliament, and going down 


to ask the tradesmen in a small Dev(K)shire tovn to give 
him a seat in the new House of Commons. Every tailor 
and shoemaker in Tiverton must feel himself an inch 
higher when Lord Palmerston comes to ask him for his 
vote. His lordship did hint in his address at overtures 
having been made to him by other constituencies ; but 
this must pass as a bit of hustings brag. We dont think 
he would have got in for Launceston or St Ives ; but 
though not up to the mark for these places, he shews 
no sign of decay. Now past his eightieth year, his 
eloquence is as fresh and vigorous, his humour as lively, 
and his animal spirits as exuberant as when he was forty. 
The only thing wanting at the Tiverton election was 
somebody for him to buff at and toss. We were 
disappointed that Mr Rowcliffe did not make his appear- 
ance. What is become of that patriot ? Has he kept 
staunch to his principles ? We confess to some misgivings. 
It was rather ominous when his lordship stated in the 
House of Commons that he and Rowcliffe after all were 
very good friends at the bottom. His creed, if we 
remember rightly, was not well defined; but what was 
wanting in that way was more than made up by the pluck 
and hardihood of the man ; and it lessens one's faith in 
human nature when such men turn out in the end to be 
reedy and flexible. To what spells did that apparendy 
invincible mind succumb ? Was the change within him 
a thing about which he talked freely with his friends? or 
did it take place in the solitude of his own tiioughts ? 
We must be content to remain in ignorance, but with the 
feeling that it might be an instructive record if we could 
trace clearly the phases of doubt in the minds of the 
Tiverton butcher. 

The election for Oxford University created probably a 
deeper interest in the public mind than any other. A 
contest in which every voter is a man of education and 


refinement, in which the candidates themselves do noteven 
approach the scene of contest, and in which not a sound 
of popular clamor can be heard, — these are circumstances 
which must always give a special interest to a University 
contest In this case the interest was heightened by the 
opposite character of the candidates. One was a man 
distinguished by his scholarly accomplishments, his states- 
man-like wisdom, and the splendor of his oratorical 
genius ; and who had, moreover, represented the Univer- 
sity in parliament for eighteen years. His opponent was 
a Mr Gathome Hardy, of whom but little is known twenty 
miles from his own dwelling, and of whose coarseness of 
mind we may judge from his having had the execrably 
bad taste to speak the other day, in a hustings speech, of 
a man so immeasureably his superior as Earl Russell, as 
" a whipped hoimd," — this gentleman has been chosen by 
the most ancient seat of learning in the realm, to represent 
its intellect and its dignity in the House of Commons. 
How strange it seems that if the choice between these 
two, instead of being made by men of learning and talent, 
had been made by the lowest constituency in England, 
by creatures with their hands stained with bribes, and 
their brains muddled with beer, they could not make a 
worse decision than has been come to by the University 
of Oxford. Mr Gladstone's offence was, that he would 
extend the franchise to a humbler class of voters than are 
now admitted to it The University fired at this, on the 
ground that such men -are incompetent to exercise the 
elective trust with discretion ; and to show the soundness 
of this opinion, of two men the very antipodes of each 
other, one whose voice charms a listening senate, and the 
other, whose flowers of rhetoric are best adapted to a 
brutal crowd, they dismiss the first in disgrace and elect 
the second as representative of the most ancient and 
celebrated academy in the world ! 



But let us be just to Oxford. Nowhere is this humi- 
iating result so deeply regretted as by the Universit>' 
itself. Within its halls Mr Gladstone is at this moment 
the most popular man in England ; and if the votes of 
the resident electors had determined the contest, he would 
have been returned by a triumphant majority. But, by 
an unfortunate extension of its privileges, the votes of the 
University extend to non-residents, scattered all over the 
kingdom ; and it is by men buried in country solitudes, 
filled with what is called " port wine orthodoxy," and 
having a jealous horror of any enlargement of pc^ular 
rights, that this inglorious contest has been decided. 
Sydney Smith complained of the deplorable state of mind 
in which he generally found men who lived twelve miles 
from a market town. And if a search were made through 
the country, it is surprising what a number of p>eople of 
this kind might be ferreted out — men whose notions of 
government have undergone no change for a generation 
— who still stick to the maxims current in the da)rs of 
Lord Eldon, and instead of progressing with the course of 
events, remain moored by a chain which they can neithei 
lengthen or remove. It is at their hands that Oxford ha* 
sustained such a disgrace as has not befallen her for a 

Our county elections have been merely ceremonies. 
The former members have been returned without any 
opposition. For West Cornwall no Conservative would 
stand any chance. In the eastern division parties are 
more equally divided, and there seems to be a tacit under- 
standing that each shall return a member. In the 
boroughs victory has inclined to the Liberal side. The 
return of Mr Young for Helstone marks the revival of an 
independent spirit which had been too long depressed by 
the acre-ocracy. The crowing on the Conservative side 
before the election was very loud, and from an ill-writtec 


)arting address by the defeated candidate, we fear he 
does not bear his reverse with the equanimity which 
becomes him. At St Ives a valorous effort was made to 
gain a free voice in the representation ; but, although the 
flame of liberty burned brightly in the town, it was extin- 
guished by the mephitic vapors of Towednack and Lelant. 
At Launceston we have a specimen of Conservatism in its 
palmiest days. There the happy electors live in a blissful 
freedom from political responsibilities, having precisely 
the same influence in the election of their member as they 
have in the choice of the Lama of Thibet As part of 
the chattels of the Warrington estate, they have lately had 
a change of owners ; and we must admit that the mode 
in which the transfer has been made is rather compli- 
mentary to them, in contrast with the usual procedure in 
such cases. Instead of going with the estate, they have 
been sold as a separate lot, — a distinction of which we 
trust they are duly sensible. They are said to have 
fetched ;^S,ooo. Mr. C , their new master, is a Con- 
servative of a milder type than the run of members under 
the reign of the Percys. One of his supporters on the 
hustings — himself an avowed Liberal — said that the hon. 
member's views are so undecided that he may be looked 
upon as in a transitorial state, with a fair prospect of 
coming round to a right way of thinking. This was a 
singular style of eulogium,but as it drewforthno disclaimer, 
it was, perhaps, not far from the truth. At all events, Mr. 
Disraeli will hardly be safe in putting down the member 
for Launceston among his reliable forces. 

To men familiar with electioneering matters forty years 
ago, the quietness and despatch with which they are con- 
ducted now-a-day must shew a striking contrast At our 
county election last week our thoughts naturally reverted 
to the scenes of former times at Lostwithiel, when a turmoil 
was kept up for fourteen days from the Land's End to 


the Tamar, while the politically halt, and lame, and 
maimed, and blind, were being brought up to the contest, 
and that ingenious little mechanical instrument, the screw, 
was at work in every variety of application. The Cornish 
elections alone, in those days, would furnish materials for 
a volume. Fancy the returns for Truro being made by 
four-and-twenty electors ; and even when that venerable 
conclave was assembled, having to wait — as was once 
actually the case — for a messenger from Tregothnan, with 
the names of the candidates, before they could proceed 
to business. A batch of the '' free and independent" 
members of Penryn were once sent to another nobleman's 
seat to be kept out of the way till the contest was over. 
We knew an astute old lawyer who, on one occasion, had 
the delicate task of taking care of a squad of voters at a 
borough election, on the night previous to the last day of 
polling. His business was to keep them snug till the 
election was over, and this he accomplished by plying 
them with abundance of good cheer at an inn where 
the rooms were darkened. There they were kept in a 
muddled condition, unconscious of the flight of time, till 
it was no longer in their power to do any harm. But one 
of the best stories on record is told of a county election. 
A party of voters were on their way to Lostwithiel from 
the Far West Their geographical knowledge, as was 
common in those days, was limited by personsd observa- 
tion, and of the land east of Truro they had as indistinct 
notions as Lord Poppington had of the country beyond 
Hyde Park. " I am told, said his lordship, " that beyond 
Hyde Park, it is all a desert" The adventurous band 
made their way successfully to Truro, but passing beycmd, 
they entered upon a terra ificognita^ and it was while 
travelling through what is called " The Gregor Country," 
that their perils began. They were met, however not by 
enemies, but by friends, — people who shewed an unac- 


countable delight at seeing them, and were singularly 
pressing in their hospitalities. Before such ardent friend- 
ship they succumbed, were separated from each other, and 
led away to the houses of their entertainers, and it is said 
that of that devoted band not one ever made his appear- 
ance at LostwithieL 

For more than twenty years the counties have been 
the strongholds of the Conservatives. There they regarded 
themselves as impregnable. They did not generally 
return statesmen of a high order. There was a strong 
muster of baronets, men of old country families dating 
back to the flood ; not remarkable for the clearness of 
their views, but filled with a vinous hot-headed zeal for 
keeping all things as they are. One of their own order is 
pleasantly described by Washington Irving, — " a fine old 
worthy, who always protested over his third bottle that 
there was no distress in the country." There was also a large 
sprinkling of retired colonels. Their heavy tramp was 
heard especially in the Midland Counties, — ^men who in 
point of political intelligence were pretty much on a par 
with the redoubtable Major General who spoke of the 
Permissive Bill the other day at Falmouth, as a bill for 
regulating attendance upon public worship. At the 
last general election even the Liberals seemed to acquiesce 
in leaving the Counties to the Conservatives, but this 
time they resolved upon storming some of those citadels. 
The results have been such as must prompt to fuller 
aggression. In South Lancashire — Lord Derby's own 
domain — ^where three Conservatives had been returned, 
Mr. Gladstone at two or three days notice wrested one of 
the seats. In Hertfordshire, held by Sir Bulwer Lytton 
and two other Conservatives, as apparently secure as a 
family property, the Hon. H. Cowper (a classic name in 
Hertfordshire) has tried his strength with them and placed 
himself at the head of the poll. In North Essex Sir 


Thomas Western has ousted Major Beresford. In North 
Wilts, Lord Charles Bruce is in the ascendant, leaving 
one of the Conservative candidates, Sir George Jenkinson, 
undisturbed leisure for burnishing up the family plate, about 
which he made such a stir. In Cardiganshire and South 
Shropshire a Liberal displaces a Conservative. The 
Southern division of Yorkshire is a new electoral district, 
succeeding to the forfeited franchise of a corrupt borough. 
The contest was one of the hottest we have had, but 
was carried by two Liberals. On the other side, the most 
noticeable reverse is in Berkshire. That county returned 
two Liberals and one Conservative ; and as parties were 
pretty equally divided, this was an arrangement of which 
the Liberals had no right to complain. In an evil hour 
they resolved on having the whole representation to them- 
selves. The solitary Conservative was more than they 
could tolerate. The royal county was not to be so dis- 
honored. They could have no peace while this Mordecai 
sat in the King's gate. So they resolved upon a thorough 
sweep ; and as a natural consequence the Conservatives 
rallied all their forces, and they succeeded in gaining the 
three seats for themselves. We must admit that the effort 
did them honor. It is melancholy to see one's friends 
floundering in a ditch, but we cannot pump up a tear for 
their reverses. Such sottish hardihood deserved the 
punishment it has met with. In East Norfolk there has 
been a slight reverse, owing to the illiberal act of a pro- 
fessedly Liberal nobleman, who sent a circular to his 
tenantry requesting them to vote for his brother Col. Coke. 
This raised a storm of indignation and lost Col. Coke his 
seat Oddly enough the tenant farmers of Norfolk have 
replaced the Colonel by returning one of themselves, a 
Mr. Read. What a shock must this have given to the 
aristocratic sensibilities of the county! — a tenant fanner 
returned to Parliament, with a baronet and a colonel left 


at the bottom of the poll. Mr. Read said on the hus- 
tings with great naivetey that he could not fancy how he 
should feel "when sitting with six or seven hundred 
gentlemen." He goes to the House of Commons, by his 
own account, to shed some clearer light upon the malt-tax, 
with a view to its repeal. It is certain that light upon 
this matter is very much wanted. We know of no pro- 
posal brought before the last parliament, against which so 
much is to be said, and in favor of which so little, as 
to the repeal of the malt-tax. We have never heard 
one solitary argument in favor of its repeal worth a 
minute's attention from any intelligent or thoughtful man. 
We have fresh in our recollection at this moment all the 
arguments which have been pleaded for its remission, 
and there is not one which, if Jeremy Bentham were 
alive, h^ might not appropriately include in a new edition 
of his Book of Fallacies. The last time the proposal was 
made it was very properly entrusted to Sir Bulwer Lytton, 
as the most accomplished master of fiction in the House. 
Under his charge it met with but very indifferent success, 
and we shall be curious to see what new aspect the 
question will assume in passing from the hands of the 
sprightly novelist to those of the tenant farmer. 

In no part of the United Kingdom have the results been 
more gratifying than in Ireland. For once that unhappy 
country seems to be governed by common sense. Never was 
the House of Commons so disgraced as by a section of 
the Irish members who sat in the last Parliament, — ^men by 
whom all imperial interests were subordinated to any party 
crotchet or local job. If the Government had been 
tripped up on the Denmark affair, it would not have been 
by the English and Scotch members, of whom a large 
majority were the supporters of Lord Palmerston, but by a 
score of Irishmen bent simply on making their power felt 
by damaging the Ministry. These men would run with 


the hare or the hounds. They sat with the Liberals but 
voted with the Conservatives, — Shaving fronts of brass 
but not a rag of character — ^their presence an offence to 
the whole House — scorned and detested alike by the 
friends they betrayed and the enemies they served. The 
most honourable soubriquet by which they were known, 
was " The Pope's Brass Band" Happily the Irish con- 
stituencies have seen through these impostors and sent 
most of them in search of more honest emplojrment 

Scotland has again been eminently faithful to the 
Liberal cause. It is remarkable that the Scotch boroughs, 
without a single exception, have returned a Liberal repre- 
sentative, while most of the counties are also on the same 
side. Conservatives in that country must be very rare or 
very unpopular. If we have any fault to find with Scot- 
land, it is that Liberalism is there rather too strong. Lord 
Palmerston freely admitted in his speech at Tiverton, that 
the Government worked best with even a strong and 
vigorous Opposition ; but if all the returns were fashioned 
upon the Scottish model the few Conservatives in the 
House might just as well vacate their seats and seek 
their happiness in domestic life. 

Mr. Disraeli has been summing up the results of the 
election to the farmers at Newport PagnelL The hon. 
gentleman has long been known as a master of eloquence ; 
he now comes out as a master of arithmetic. By a curious 
process of calculation he makes it appear — more satis^- 
torily, we fear, to his audience than himself— that on the 
whole the numerical force will be just the same, on each 
side of the House, as in the last Parliament Thus it is 

" Hope springs eternal in the human fareasL" 

He reckons, as two main sources of his strength, upon 
several Liberal members being unseated upon election pcti- 


tions 'y and also upon the support of a few professed 
Liberals, whose sympathies, he says are with the other 
party. As to his other ground of hope, the thinning of 
the Irish clique, to whom we have elsewhere alluded, has 
very much narrowed it ; and amongst English or Scotch 
members politicians of that type are fortunately but rare. 
We need not envy the Conservative leader any banquet 
he can prepare from such crumbs of consolation as these. 



With the foregoing article the writer's contributions to 
the press terminated. He had intended to resume the 
subject in the following week, but ere then he had passed 
away from among the living. 

The preceding pages will have given the reader the 
means of forming a general estimate of the subject of 
these memoirs, and it only remains now to supply such 
additional observations as may be necessary for ^e imder- 
standing of a character of more than ordinary interest in 
the social, intellectual, and religious sphere in which he 
moved. As a literary man, his strength lay chiefly in cer- 
tain departments which were especially congenial with his 
tastes, and his intimate converse with which made him 
comparatively indifferent to that wide and multi&rious 
range of subjects which is often identified with book- 
learning. He had received in his early years nothing 
beyond a plain elementary education, and was thrown 
into the active business of life while yet scarcely able lo 
appreciate the value of intellectual wealth. To classical 
scholarship he made no pretensions, though the study of 
Latin was at one time prosecuted with considerable dili- 
gence in the way of self-tuition. This was carried on by 
early rising in the long summer days, when the hour of 
5 A.M. would find him seated at a desk in his chamber 
frilly occupied with some author whose rank among the 
Roman writers never reached quite so high as Cornelias 
Nepos. The possession, however, of any quantity of 
latinity could not fail to invest him with much importance 
in a household to every other member of which aU Ian- 


guages, save that of the mother tongue, were entirely 
unknown. It also served as a key to many classical pro- 
verbs and aphorisms, scattered on the pages of the fismiiily 
library, and was sometimes called into exercise, though 
seldom with much eflfect, in the interpretation of a volume 
which we all regarded with wonder and astonishment 
This was a huge book of the folio size, entitled De Re 
Metallica^ and professing to give a fuU and comprehensive 
description of the various methods employed in raising, 
reducing, and manufacturing the different metallic sub- 
stances known to the world about two centuries ago, — ^as 
far as the date can now be remembered. It was illustrated 
rather than adorned by very numerous engravings of the 
various machinery and operations connected with the art ; 
and having come into the parental hand as a present 
from a friend who thought it would be interesting to a 
practical miner, was considered a somewhat valuable 
curiosity. The great drawback on the pleasure it might 
have afforded was, that it was written in Latin, so that 
much more was really learnt from the pictures than from 
the letter-press. The assistance of Uie young latinist, 
however, was in frequent demand if happily some particu- 
lar passage of seemingly great interest might be rendered 
intelligible. It was not, however, to be wondered at 
that, although the style of composition was of the plainest 
and homeliest description, the vocabulary of such a book — 
dealing with subjects altogether different from the Cicer- 
onian class of meditations — made the interpretation of its 
dark pages a work of no ordinary labor. 

To this stock of Latin was added a sufficient knowledge 
of the French language to read it with tolerable facility. 
In the mathematics he did nothing, and though his aver- 
sion to this department of learning was certainly far less 
than that of one of Blackwood* s heroes, who ''hated 
Euclid and all his propositions," it may safely be asserted 


that for few persons had the science of number and quan- 
tity less charms than for him. He had indeed procured 
a copy of the famous Greek geometer at a time when 
this, in common with many other things, was thought 
necessary to intellectual accomplishment But that fatal 
fifth proposition in the first book was never surmounted. 

At the period now alluded to, the books which formed 
the staple of his general reading were those which are 
popularly styled the English Classics, of which a very 
neat and uniform edition vras at that time issued by a 
well-known London publisher. A small deal book-case, 
measuring some four feet by three, manufactured at the 
mine and conveyed thence to the house over three miles 
of ground by himself and one of the laborers, was des- 
tined to receive the books which formed the foundation 
of what was eventually a rather imposing library. Of the 
large and miscellaneous collection of volumes which were 
thus for more than forty years accumulating, his attention 
was mainly given to those which dealt with poetry and 
criticism. Among the poets he was of course sufficiently 
orthodox to place Spenser, Shakspeare, and Milton in 
the first rank of those with whom any one pretending 
to literary taste must be familiar ; but he never affected 
to disclaim the fellowship of that very numerous class of 
readers who, while duly acknowledging the supreme merit 
of these great masters in the poetic art, turn for the most 
part to authors of a less gifted but more attractive charac- 
ter. Moore and Byron had probably the greatest share 
in his regards before he had cultivated that severer taste 
which relishes the productions of Coleridge and Words- 
worth ; and of the latter of these it is perhaps hardly 
saying too much to state, that in his after years, had he 
no other alternative he would have secured the writings 
of Wordsworth at the sacrifice of every other poet With- 
out making him the object of an undiscriminating admi- 


ration, without being blind to the fact that Wordsworth 
had justly exposed himself to ridicule by the adoption of 
a poetical theory which he was generally far too wise to 
follow up in practice, he could not but see in this great 
author's writings a combination of the richest and rarest 
excellences. The simplicity of his style, the chastened 
beauty of his imagination, the breezy freshness of his com- 
munings with Nature in all her forms of loveliness, sub- 
limity, and grandeur, the mystic spirituality with which his 
genius imbued the scenes and incidents of every-day life — 
all coupled with that pure morality to which no polluting or 
debasing thought dared to present itself— could not fail 
to make him the acknowledged favorite. If a volume of 
poetry was to be taken from the shelves for the enter- 
tainment of some friends, there was small difficulty in 
guessing what that volume would be ] nor was it an un- 
pleasing task to take by surprise some one whose estimate 
of the bard of Rydal had been chiefly influenced through 
the medium of Peter Bell and the Idiot Boy^ by acquaint- 
ing him with the fact that the man who stood chargeable 
with puerilities that no logic could defend, had yet indited 
such lines as the following : — 

" Three yean she grew in son and shower, • 
Then Nature said, a lovlier flower 
On earth was noTer sown ; 
This child I to myself wiU take. 
She shall be mine, and I will make 
A lady of my own. 

" Myself will to my darling be. 
Both law and impulse ; and with me 

The girl, in rook and plain, 
In earth and heaven, in glade and bower, 
ShaU feel an overseeing power 

To kindle or restrain. 


" She ahAll be sportiTe ms the ftiwn 
Thftty wild with g^lee acroos the lawn. 

Or up the mountain springs ; 
And hers shall be the breathing* balm. 
And bets the silenoe and the calm 

Of mute, insensate things. 

" The floating clouds their state shall lead 
To her ; for her the willow bend ; 

Nor shall she fail to see 
Even in the motions of the storm 
Oraoe that shall mould the maiden's form 
By silent empathy. 

" The stars of midnight shall be dear 
To her ; and she shall lean her ear 

In many a secret place 
Where rivulets dance their wayward round. 
And beauty bom of murmuring sound 

Shall pass into her face. 

" And vital feelings of delight 
Shall rear her form to stately height, 

Her virgin bosom swell ; 
Such thoughts to Lucy I will give 
While she and I togeUier live 
Here in this happy dell. 

** Thus Nature spoke. The work was done, — 
How soon my Lucy's moe was run ! 

She died, and 1^ to me 
This heath, this calm and quiet scen^ 
The memory of what has been, 

And never more wiU be." 

As a reader of poetry it may be questioned if he was 
surpassed by any but those who make reading a profession. 
A melodious voice, a clear and distinct intonation, and 
that rare faculty of breathing a living soul into his author's 
verses, generally made poetry with which the hearer might 
think himself tolerably familiar, seem as though he had 
never heard it before. So in respect of his favourite prose 


writers ; they seemed in his hands to speak a different lan- 
guage from what could be heard through another medium. 
No higher treat could well be looked for than his reading a 
paper from the best pages of Thomas de Quincy, an author 
who in prose held in his estimation nearly the same position 
that was assigned to Wordsworth in poetry. There is 
still a vivid recollection of an evening spent at Fairfield 
many years since, when the summer was fast dying into 
autumn, and when the fading of the daylight found us at 
the closing part of that most affecting story of Charles 
Lloyd and his mental troubles. The writer's description 
of his own reflections on the instability and vanity of all 
worldly good, as one evening shortly after Lloyd's 
death he sat within the sound of a waterfall whose solemn 
and reiterated cadences seemed gradually resolved into a 
voice that came echoing through the aisles of a vast 
cathedral — the whole scene illustrated with a power 
peculiar to that master of language — was fascinating in the 
highest degree ; and so complete was the spell by which 
it held the hearer, that in the general hush of nature which 
then prevailed it might be imagined that everything within 
and without was listening to the tale. So with the story 
of John and Sarah Green sleeping in Grassmere church- 
yard, after perishing in the mountain snows; or, with 
that still more extraordinary narrative, the flight of the 
Calmuck Tartars to their future home in China — a freak 
of genius in the main, but marked by some most magnifi- 
cent painting— these were passages which, though read 
many a time, never became tiresome. In meet companion- 
ship with such authors would be found Macaulay, Hazlitt, 
and Charles Lamb, of which trio the last, in his inimitable 
Elian Essays, always found a reader who could appreciate 
the fine sense that went hand in hand with his indescribable 
quaintness and humour. 
Of his estimate of Sir Walter Scott nothing needs be 


said ; for whatever may be thought of the permanent 
value of the works produced by that tmiversally popular 
writer, the strength and fertility of his genius is a question 
about which no controversy that we are aware of has 
existed. Nor would the subject be here mentioned but 
for the circumstance that on one occasion when travelling 
through the South of Scotland he visited Dryburgh Abbey 
and stood by the tomb of the once Great Unknown. Some 
years afterwards, when giving an address at a literary 
institution, in his own neighbourhood, he adverted to that 
memorable day when he looked on the mound of earth 
which covered the dust of the mighty magician who had 
so long held the intellectual world under the spell of his 
enchantment, and was now slumbering just by die towers 
of Abbotsford. TTure indeed was 

" the stately oolomn broke, 
The beacon light all quenched in smoke ; 
The trampet's silver sound was still. 
The warder silent on the hiU." 

The reflection of "what fountains of thought were 
sealed up ^ within that narrow tenement ; what a strange 
succession of worldly triumph, disappointment, and 
wretchedness, had found its termination in the place wheie 
the weary heart and brain were resting ; and for what true 
and worthy ends the possession of those glorious faculties 
must have been given, — ^might have pressed on a much 
less thoughtful mind with a power not easily described. 

In common with most persons devoted to elegant 
literature, he had slight interest in mere questions of 
science; and although in some parts of the correspondence 
there is a playful allusion to agricultural matters, his actual 
knowledge of husbandry was almost limited to the hex 
that fields were more productive in summer than in winter. 
To name a few plants in the shrubbery, a few tr«es by the 


way side, and a few flowers in the conservatory, was a 
satisfactory amount of natural history. At the time when 
youthful enthusiasm suggested the expediency of becoming 
acquainted with everything, there were more serious 
intentions of doing something in the way of experimental 
philosophy ; but these notions were gradually elbowed out 
of the way by pursuits more in keeping with the mental 
bias. It might however be generally supposed that where 
the ear was so finely tuned to the harmonies of language, 
there would be a corresponding appreciation of music ; 
but to this, whether vocal or instrumental, he was strangely 
indifferent, — a fact still more singular, from the circum- 
stance that when a lad he had given to music a consider- 
able share of attention. Many a time had been fingered 
on the German flute, and he also owned to the possession 
of a neatly-bound music book in which he had copied out 
a number of favourite airs, the notes being formed with as 
much precision and regularity as if they were meant to be 
models for printing types. These melodies were both 
sacred and secular, and being inserted with small regard 
for classification, exhibited the appearance of a " happy 
family*' composed of most incongruous characters, — 
Shirland making no objection to company with the 
Spanish Convention, and the Old Hundred lying placidly 
side by side with the Ihike of YorHs March, To what- 
ever cause the fact may be attributed, this early predilection 
for sweet sounds was all but lost in after years ; and in 
occasionally listening to the finest of Handel's pieces, he 
confessed himself scarcely conscious of any higher feeling 
than that of astonishment at so many voices and instru- 
ments working together. He has observed, however, that 
there were times when amid those peals of richest har- 
mony he felt something like a dim consciousness of an 
awakening musical power, as if a faculty long gone torpid 
was about to be quickened into new life and energy ; and 

E E 


half suspected that a persevering attendance on such per- 
formances would enable him to enjoy them, not merely as 
a cataract of sound, but as music of the highest order. 
How far this dream would ever have been verified we have 
no means of stating. 

It has been seen that he very early became attached to 
politics, and this attachment continued with him through 
life, being at all times keenly interested in every question 
relating to the public good. It might also to a consider- 
able extent be the natural consequence of his possessing 
a peculiar aptness for the discussion of political subjects, 
as well adapted to that smart and racy vein of writing in 
which he always excelled. It is generally taken for 
granted that he commenced his political career by serving 
in the ranks of toryism ; but it does not appear that he 
had much general sympathy with that cause beyond the 
contributing of some articles ' to a Conservative journal, 
in which he figured as the opponent of Catholic Emanci- 
pation, of which measure he subsequently became the 
strenuous defender. It would be little else than a play 
upon words to call this a shifting of politics. From the 
earliest dawn of intelligence he had been accustomed to 
regard popery as the incarnation of evil, and to associate 
its power with the rack of the Inquisition and the fires of 
Smithfield. The wide distinction between investing that 
religion with secular domination, and giving to a large 
and important section of British subjects the rei»resenta- 
tive privileges enjoyed by the other part of them, had 
hardly received anything like thoughtful attention; and 
with his altered views on this question his toryism may be 
said to have virtually ended. For the future he was 
almost invariably identified with the advocacy of every 
public measure that was called Liberal. As a thorough- 
paced upholder of parliamentary Reform the articles 
already quoted from the Ccmubian may speak for them- 


selves, and as to Free Trade, he may be said to have 
been a man entirely after Cobden's own heart The 
essential iniquity — to say nothing as to the bad policy — of 
that class legislation which made the poor and laboring 
masses support the landed aristocracy by an artificial 
price on their bread, was only regarded by him with still 
deeper indignation as being defended on the ground of 
protection to the British farmer — a safeguard against the 
perils of foreign competition. With many other equally 
sincere opponents of the Com Laws there would be a dis- 
position to apply a much milder and more gradual method 
of bringing them to an end; and for this reason, that 
however unsound in principle they were, their imposition 
on the country was rather a political blunder than any- 
thing worse ; and as landed property had thus in the 
lapse of half a century become subject to privileges and 
obligations depending on a legislation to which few of 
the present holders were parties, the sudden destruction 
of the protective system must for a time fall heavily on 
those who thought their former rent-rolls to be nothing 
more than their just patrimony. With these moderate 
views the conductor of the Comubian had little sympathy; 
and although it is probable that had the question been 
really brought to such a practical issue he would have 
advocated a more lenient policy, he has said that he saw 
no reason why the abolition of the Com Laws should be 
delayed a single hour if it involved the ruin of every 
farmer and landholder in the kingdom. An examination 
of his general political articles will shew that nothing 
pleased him better than writing down all sophistry by 
which the higher classes thought themselves entitled to 
lord it over their inferiors ; and the language not unfre- 
quently used on such occasions would give a stranger the 
impression that the writer had something of that demo- 
cratic spirit which hates all distinctions of birth and 

43^ MEMOIR or 

fortune. No conclusion could be more erroneous, nor 
could any man be more thoroughly alive to the fact, that 
to a well-proportioned admixture of the low and the titled 
in the population of this country we have the best security 
for the happiness and the rights of all. So while he uni- 
formly pleaded for the rightful privileges of the people, as 
distinguished from the nobility, the thought of giving them 
an undue share of political power was to him more abhor- 
rent than despotism itself. No man was less of a dema* 
gogue, less disposed to truckle to the rabble, or to give 
the working classes credit for one iota of intelligence to 
which they could lay no just claim. 

As a member of the Christian Church he was from the 
first identified with Wesleyan Methodism. To the Wes- 
leyan ministry he had been trained fix)m a child, but he 
was not just the person to adopt on such grounds any 
Christian denomination as the people of his choice. 
He sincerely regarded that religious system as one emi- 
nently calculated for most extensive usefulness ; by no 
means free from certain defects and disadvantages, but 
admirably adapted to produce — and especially within a 
certain sphere — ^an amount of spiritual good scarcely to be 
eflfected by any other agency in the world John Wesley 
was a man held by him as hardly second to any man 
living since the days of the Apostles ; and without in- 
dorsing everything he did or said, he regarded the piety, 
the wisdom, the legislative tact and skill exhibited in the 
gradual organization of his society, together with the vast 
and unintermitting labors of half a century in spreading 
scriptural religion through the country, as quite enough to 
make any man justly proud of being enrolled among his 
followers. So in the Wesleyan church, he saw in its 
unrivalled blending of the clerical and lay agencies, — that 
wise economy by which the highest and the humblest 
talents were all called into action and provided with 


a suitable field of labor — an adaptation to the wants of 
the masses such as no other religious body possessed. 
Among its ministers were numbered men whose sanctified 
learning and eloquence would have adorned any Christian 
community ; it had its lay supporters of high standing in 
the literary and commercial circles of the land ; it had 
gathered into its fold an innumerable company to whom 
its ministry had been life from the dead ) and in its wide- 
spread missionary agency had made to itself a name 
£aunous in all climes. Such a system could afford to be 
sneered at by bigots of every party ; and indeed between 
intolerant churchmen on the one hand and intolerant 
dissenters on the otlier, its passive graces had always 
been kept in healthy exercise. In the mean time it 
had held on its way without returning railing for railing ; 
satisfied with vindicating itself from the attacks of others 
without attacking in return ; and ever regarding its own 
work to be, not that of meddling with the polity of other 
churches, but that of preaching the gospel and saving 

With this predilection for one religious body there 
certainly existed not the slightest disposition to underrate 
the excellencies of any other branch of the Catholic 
Church. Of that Church he regarded the national Estab- 
lishment as possessed of peculiar facilities for becoming a 
national blessing. The exclusive claims put forth by 
a section of its clergy in behalf of a lineal apostolical suc- 
cession, with other dogmas held by the same party, were 
certainly treated with sovereign contempt; and the extracts 
given in former pages will afford ample evidence that in 
dealing with this class of divines he thought that to give 
them grave and sober argument was doing too much 
honor both to them and their cause. This view may be 
substantially correct ; and as far as a Punch-Wkt vein of 
philosophy has exercised a wholesome influence on many 


persons who were in doubt as to the real merits of the new 
doctrines, it has probably done some good service. But 
its efficacy in the way of disabusing the actual teachers of 
those doctrines has, it is to be feared, been infinitesimally 
small It would seem that Nature, in selecting a class of 
persons as the exponents of modem ritualism, has seen 
proper to fill up the ranks of Anglo-Romanist theologians 
with men who for the most part are endowed with extra 
solemnity and impervious to jokes; and indeed it is 
hardly possible to imagine that any keen sense of the 
ridiculous can co-exist with a liking for those childish 
fooleries which men, calling themselves ministers of the New 
Testament, have lately been seeking to blend with the 
services of the national Church, and for which they 
clamour with as much zeal as if they formed the very pith 
and marrow of the gospel. It is not much that powerful 
reasoning, aided by all the forces of the most approved 
Logic, can do with gentlemen of this description; but 
when assailed with the shafts of ridicule they have their 
convenient answer in the fact that religion has in all ages 
been made the butt of the scoffer. 

The writer of those severe philippics against High 
Church pretensions was also quite aware of what state of 
things had been exhibited in many a Cornish parish long 
years before Puseyism was either bom or thought of; and 
when the people, fed by pastors to whom all theologies 
were equally acceptable if equally productive of tithes, 
presented a most pitiable spectable of brutal ignorance 
and degrading vice. The history of Comish morality 
when the national clergy had no other religious teachers 
to dispute the grounds with them, was, as he always 
thought, a full and sufficient reply to every complaint 
against the imauthorized ministrations of men on whose 
heads no bishop's hand had rested. Whether a people 
thus circumstanced should live and die like headiens 


in order to escape the character of schismatics — whether 
they should perish in their iniquity rather than hear the 
trumpet's warning from a watchman not known to Oxford 
or Cambridge — was a question not considered to be very 
difficult of solution. On those who insisted that Wes- 
le3ranism was an unwarrantable innovation, — on those he 
laid the burden of accounting for the fact that it had 
in some way become an agency of unprecedented power 
in turning thousands of the most abandoned characters 
to a course of sobriety and godliness; — a fact at the 
present day most cheerfully acknowledged by many 
clergymen who gladly give the right hand of fellowship 
to men who with themselves labor for one common object; 
that object being, not the maintenance of a system, but 
the salvation of mankind. 

We may here revert to the ecclesiastical questions 
discussed in the West Briton in the years 1844-5. ^^ 
will be remembered that these originated in the attempt 
on the part of a Cornish clergyman to introduce into his 
church some novelties savouring of the Tractarian doc- 
trines at that time making so much stir in the country. 
These novelties were defended, as far as he thought it 
safe to do so, by the bishop of the diocese ; a man to 
whose high intellectual qualities^ and untiring energy in 
his work, few will deny the just tribute of admiration. 
But what kind of spiritual light the people of Devon and 
Cornwall would have in their dwellings, if in the absence 
of what he would call heretical and sectarian teachers, 
they were shut up to the faith of this prelate, may be 
conceived from the calm and deliberate statement which he 
thought proper to make on that occasion when publicly 
rehearsing the articles of his belief. These compre- 
hended — " The necessity of the use of the Sacraments to 
salvation ; the new birth given to us by God in baptism ; 
the actual communication of the body and blood of Christ 


to the soul of every faithful receiver of the Lord's Sapper; 
the sinfulness of violating the unity of the Church ; the 
apostolic succession of its ministry; and t/i^ want of any 
covenanted promise of salvation to those who have never 
been added to this churchy or have renounced its communionJ* 
These are the doctrines which the Bishop would have had 
preached in every pulpit from Sidmouth to the Land's 
End ; doctrines, to maintain the purity of which he 
would have silenced all sectarian tongues. This, in his 
judgment, should be the faith of all England, and which 
he professed to regard as entirely in harmony with the 
teachings of the New Testament With men holding such 
views and yet calling themselves members of the reformed 
Church of England, it is useless to argue. As a reviewer 
of Tract No. 90 well observed, we never think of encoun- 
tering such persons with the forces of logic, but stare at 
them as we stare at a new comet, and wonder by w^hat 
strange process they have managed to divest themselves 
of so large a portion of what is generally deemed essential 
to our common humanity. We do not think the writer of 
the West Briton articles far out of the way in saying that 
as a general rule no men really believe such doctrines 
until they Tvish tliem to be true. These doctrines give so 
much pomp and pretension to the priestly office that 
they are welcomed and cherished in spite of all the glaring 
absurdities that follow in their train. 

Rejecting, then, those groundless assumptions of exclu- 
sive sanctity which have nothing but sacerdotal pride at 
their foundation, he yet recognized in the National 
Establishment something very different from a gigantic 
apparatus for enslaving thought, freedom, and conscience. 
A church on whose altars such men as Jewel, Hooker, 
Taylor, Barrow, Pearson, and other distinguished sons of 
genius and piety had laid their offerings ; whose services 
and liturgy have neither been surpassed nor equalled by 


anything of the kind since Christianity was planted on the 
earth; whose seminaries of learning have given to the pulpit 
and the senate their brightest ornaments; and whose 
parochial clergy, from their privilege of access to all circles 
of society, have means of usefulness possessed by no others 
within the same limits, — such a church he could not but 
regard as claiming a somewhat better treatment than it 
would get from those whose cry was, "Down with it, 
down with it, even to the ground." That there- were 
great and glaring evils of more than one description, from 
which the best friends of that church would devoutly wish 
her to be free, was undeniable. But unless these evils 
could be shewn to be things not accidental, but the 
natural and inevitable oflfspring of a state religion, they 
could do small service to the cause of ultra-voluntaryism. 
Nor could he overlook the fact that the opponents of a 
national establishment comprehended two widely differing 
classes of men. There were the Ultras of the Liberation 
Society, who, with all their professed zeal for the purity of 
religion, seemed principally animated by a hatred of the 
wealth and influence attached to the Church of England ; 
and there was another section, who, while sincerely and 
conscientiously opposed to all national patronage of any 
one form of faith or worship, most readily and cheerfully 
recognized whatever they believed to be good and 
scriptural in a church with whose communion they yet 
could not be joined. It was his privilege to be acquainted 
with some of the leading ministers of the Dissenting 
churches, whose qualifications intellectually and spiritually 
for their sacred duties would not,. has he conceived, be a 
whit the better, though it were proved on most indu 
bitable evidence that their ecclesiastical pedigree could 
be traced all the way up to St Peter. He was a great 
admirer of the late Mr. Nicholson, of Plymouth ; and it 
is needless to say in what estimation he would hold 


another minister of the same persuasion — ^Robert Hall, 
from whom he once heard two sermons in his chapel at 
Broadmead, Bristol. In the annexed Lecture, of which 
that celebrated man is the subject, there is a vivid 
description of the impression produced by these sennoiis, 
at a time when physical pain had almost done its work 
upon him, and when his failing bodily energies were 
so strikingly contrasted with the fire and animation of 
his preaching. In many a visit subsequently paid to &e 
metropolis, he would reckon it among his greatest 
privileges to be found among the hearers of some of the 
Nonconforming brethren, — ^luxuriating in the chastened 
eloquence of "Wells or Staughton, or sitting under the 
minister of Surrey Chapel, or standing (for in this case 
sitting was sometimes out of the question) amid a densely 
packed mass of promiscuous humanity in the great Music 
Hall, while Mr. Spurgeon kept his attention rivetted from 
the beginning to the ending of his pithy and powerful 
discourses. But his favorite place of resort was the 
Weigh House Chapel, and his introduction to its dis- 
tinguished minister Mr. Binney formed unquestionably 
one of the red-letter days of his life. It had long been 
the wish of his heart to get Mr. Binney to pay a visit to 
West Cornwall, and in the summer of 1861 he had the 
pleasure of receiving him as his guest at Fairfield. Mr. 
R preached in some of the Wesleyan Chapels in the 
neighbourhood, delighted with the hearty religious feeling 
of the congregations, which, though mainly composed of 
the laboring classes, could yet thoroughly appreciate a 
style of preaching marked by a high order of thought, but 
eminently plain and practical. It so happened that on 
one or two occasions the fervor of the people was rather 
too much for the equanimity of a minister accustomed to 
the well-bred sedateness of a London audience ; but the 
conclusion eventually arrived at was, that if the overplus 


of Comish enthusiasm were transferred to many localities 
in which that element was by no means redundant, the 
advantage on both sides would be unmistakeable. 

A season always anticipated with pleasure by the host 
at Fairfield was that which brought under his roof the 
annual gathering of ministers and friends when the Anni- 
versary Missionary Services were held in the county, and 
which generally took place in the early part of April. As 
there was frequently a demand for his assistance either as 
chairman or speaker at the public meetings on these 
occasions, his intercourse with the ministers both at his 
own house and elsewhere was a source of high gratifica- 
tion. On looking back over a distance of nearly twenty 
years smce he first received the yearly deputation at his 
residence, there come a crowd of strange and solemn 
thoughts on the fleeting and visionary character of every 
thing we are here concerned with. The names of Newton, 
Barton, Young, Thornton, will suggest to many a reader 
a number of others whose presence once gladdened that 
fireside, and whose genial spirit once lit up the dwelling 
— now, all gone under the shadows. 

" like clouds that rake the mountain summits. 
Or waves that know no curbing hand, 
So fast has brother followed brother, 
From sunshine to the sunless land ! ** 

But the great religious festival which eclipsed all others 
was that of the year 1862. In this year the annual 
Wesleyan Conference was held in the neighbouring town 
of Camborne^ in accordance with a resolution passed at 
the Conference of the previous year held in Newcastle-on- 
T3me.* The proceeding was a high tribute of respect to 

* On the day when the resolution was passed a communication was 
forwarded to Mr Garland by his long known and highly-esteemed 
friend, the late Rey. John Hobson, at that time filling the office of 


the status which the Wesleyan Church had acquired in 
the county, and the selection of Camborne as the Con- 
ference town was suggested from its being the most 
convenient centre at which the ministers, located for the 
time in various parts of the district, could daily assemble. 
On other grounds Camborne could hardly lay claim to so 
lofty a distinction. The reverend gendemen who had 
been long accustomed to Conferences held in Bristol, 
Leeds, Manchester, London, and the great cities of the 
land, almost wondered whether seeing was believing, 
when they found that their grand annual conclave was to 
take place in a town largely composed of miners' cottages. 
But the heartiness with which they were welcomed, the 
efficient arrangements made for their accommodation in 
the town and neighbourhood, and the lively interest 
manifested by the eager multitudes that thronged from 

Chairman for the Cornwall district. Mr. Hobson liad for many years 
exercised bis miniRtrj in variouB Circuits in the west of this oountr, 
and was everywhere endeared to the Wesleyan community by his 
kindly and benevolent spirit, and by tbe hearty interest with vbich he 
entered into everything^ affecting the religious welfare of the people. 
Rejoicing in the prosperity of every section of the true Church, he was 
yet in heart and soul devoted to the well-being of Methodism. Tbe 
vision of a Cornish Conf^ence had long floated before his eye amoog 
the brightest of his day dreams, and no prouder day of his life ooold 
have passed over him than that on . which Camborne became tlie scene 
of this great gathering of Wesleyan ministers from aU parts of the 
Kingdom. The pleasure afforded him by the resolution passed at the 
foregoing Conference is not unambiguously expressed in tiie c»mmtim- 
cation just referred to : — 

Newcastle-on-Tyne, Friday^ 30th. 
My Dear Sir,— The Conference has this morning heard our re a enp s 
for requesting the Conference next year in Cornwall ; and, after they 
had heard Dr Waddy's reasons for holding the Conference in Sheffield, 
and mine for our holding it in Cornwall, they did in the most keartf 
and one and all manner decide that the Conference shall be held in ISi^ 

This is now settled. I am, my dear Sir, yours most truly, 



every -direction to the public services connected with this 
Conference, — all compelled the acknowledgment that no 
happier season of the kind had ever been known. It was 
a high day for " my landlord and his lodgers*' at Fairfield 
He had gathered round him a circle of men whose society 
he valued beyond any other, and as morning after morning 
he despatched them to their business about three miles 
from that spot, the evening re-union was contemplated 
with most agreeable expectations. This succession of 
pleasant meetings and partings, ranging over nearly three 
weeks, would always be a grateful remembrance to himself 
and his guests ; and as he could see no common proba- 
bility of again witnessing an event of this kind, he spared 
neither labor nor expense for making the first Cornish 
Conference a source of the utmost enjoyment to all con- 
cerned in it 

The allusion just made to the part he was frequently 
called on to take in public meetings of various kinds, 
brings us to notice his qualifications as a public speaker. 
One of his first essays in this character — if not the first — 
was a speech at a Missionary Meeting held in a small 
country chapel in the Camborne Circuit, about the year 
1830. How far the speech in question was extemporane- 
ous, or to what extent it had been committed to memory, 
is not known. The trial, however, was a severe one, for 
although neither the general audience nor the company 
on the platform were aware of anything like serious 
embarrassment, it was to the speaker such hard toiling to 
keep up the connection of ideas, that he was compelled 
to seek physical composure by grasping one of the slender 
pillars that supported the platform, while, with the 
perspiration streaming down his face, he struggled on to 
the end of his address. At a Bible Society Meeting some 
time after held in the neighbourhood, there occurred the 
only case — as far as can be remembered — of what was a 


decided failure. He started well, and for a few minutes 
all went prosperously ; then a mist and darkness came 
over everything. It was useless to contend with fete ; 
there was no alternative but to sit down. But this 
untoward circumstance, in connection with other cases 
where a similar catastrophe was narrowly escaped, scans 
to have roused him to the conviction that the habit of 
depending on memoriter composition — to which he was at 
that time accustomed — would never do ; that if ever he 
was to attain the requisite ease and self-possession of a 
public speaker, he must be content to master the leading 
thoughts and trust to the gradual improvement of the 
faculty for clothing them in suitable language. In the 
prosecution of this object he became by persevering 
practice, so completely successful that his most unpre- 
meditated addresses were generally distinguished by as 
much verbal accuracy and precision as if they had been 
written out for the press. 

There were probably no occasions on which he was 
heard to greater advantage than those connected with 
the great Missionary cause. It was a topic which g^ive 
full scope for all the resources of human eloquence, and 
upon which every sort of ability, natural or acquired, 
might well be brought to bear with the happiest effect 
It is generally admitted that many of his best efforts 
on the Missionary platform could hardly be surpassed 
by anything of that kind. Tlie happy mixture of the 
serious and the playful, the pathetic and the humorous, 
the keen argument and the powerful declamation^ all 
given in language which seemed to have reached its 
utmost finish, would hold the audience in breathless 
attention; and it not unfrequently happened that die 
gentlemen associated with him, and who in their official 
character were looked upon as the speakers, felt tfaem* 
selves, after such introductory speeches the subjects of 


sensations not altogether comfortable. It was impossible 
not to be aware of the fact that the speech of the day 
was already delivered ; and that the culmination of interest 
which, according to the orthodox system, should directly 
precede the collection, was even now a thing of the past 
More than ten years elapsed from the commencement 
of his platform addresses to his engaging in the general 
duties of a local preacher. His first sermons, and also 
those of other times if designed for selecter audiences, 
were carefully prepared, but the majority of them, as being 
mainly delivered in small country chapels, had their 
outline written on a slip of paper, after which a few hours 
meditation would generally furnish an interesting and 
instructive discourse. He had somewhat peculiar views 
of what is called original preaching ; and was of opinion 
that too much importance was attached to a man's 
preaching that which was strictly his own composition. 
His argument was, that if a congregation heard what was 
good and thoroughly adapted to edification, it could be to 
them a matter of no consequence whether what they heard 
was the preacher's own or the product of another man's 
brain. They were to be profited by the truth, and not 
by the party through whom that truth came to their 
hearing. A theory of this kind would, in the case of 
many of its advocates, be accounted for on the principle 
that they must shine in borrowed plumes if they were to 
shine at all. It hardly needs be said that no such 
explanation will apply here. The disposition to apologise 
for pulpit plagiarisms — for this is the only name by which 
the preaching of other men's sermons will be called — 
was probably owing to the unpleasant feelings of which 
he was occasionally the subject in listening to the inco- 
herent effusions of some persons whose qualifications for 
pulpit work had been altogether mistaken by themselves 
and others. In such a case^ it might be a natural question. 


whether, if instead of treating the audience to a discourse 
the ideas of which had only the slenderest connection 
with any known system of theology or philosophy, the 
speaker had given his people something which, though 
not his own, was sound, scriptural, and useful, — whether 
it would not have been every way more beneficiaL To 
this there would appear to be no great objection ; the real 
question at issue being, whether those who have no 
personal resources from which an audience may derive 
suitable instruction in divine things, can be justly regarded 
as having any valid call to the work of preaching. 

Few of his sermons had in them much of the theological 
element, and of controversial divinity it may be questioned 
— for reasons referred to in a former chapter — if any of 
his pulpit addresses had occupied the hearers for as much 
as five minutes. Of theology and biblical criticism, as 
far as their advantage in the pulpit is concerned, he had no 
very exalted opinion ; for he regarded the great and leading 
doctrines of revelation as understood by the popular mind 
to a much greater extent than the general preaching of 
the day seemed to suppose; and he, therefore held in 
highest esteem those sermons which, assuming rather than 
discussing fundamental truths, illustrated and enforced 
them by bible narrative. Nothing was more repulsive to 
his taste and judgment than that order of preaching which 
is always opening up and explaining the simplest doctrines 
of Christianity with a tone and manner suitable to speakers 
who are bringing before an audience things of which they 
never heard before. Preaching of this kind he would 
sometimes designate as " very sound and very stupid." 
He certainly could not imagine that the first principles of 
religious truth were things to be heard once for all, or that 
congregations in general do not contain a considerable 
number of those who, whether from youth, heedlessness, 
or other causes, have hardly the most elementary know> 


ledge of divine things. Nor would he overlook the fact 
that those who were well grounded in such knowledge 
could not therefore dispense with that " line upon line" 
which, when wisely managed, will neither lack freshness 
nor interest He objected to what he thought the 
disproportionate use of those subjects in the direct form 
of teaching, when they might with better effect be exhibited 
in their connection with scripture incidents, far more 
interesting to general hearers than any mere doctrinal 

In general, the simple routine of the Wesleyan public 
service accorded very well with his predilections, though 
he would gladly have seen the introduction of a concise 
liturgy in every one of the principal circuit chapels. The 
services in the Book of Common Prayer he admired as 
the noblest of uninspired compositions, but considered 
their length to be tedious and unedifying. On one point 
he regarded the Wesleyans as privileged beyond all 
denominations, — their possession of a hymn-book which 
he looked upon as embodying the great truths of doctrinal, 
practical, and experimental religion in a collection of the 
noblest spiritual songs that sanctified genius ever pro- 
duced.* He was fond of comparing the poetry of Charles 
Wesley with the equally unique performances of Stemhold 
and Hopkins, those luminaries that illustrated the Psalms 
of David till obscured by the superior brightness of Brady 
and Tate. Nor was it a little amusing to him to be told 
one day by some gentlemen who were engaged in com- 
piling a book of church hymns, that after carefully ex- 
amining the Wesleyan Hymn-Book they could find no 
more than three of sufficient mark to appear in the new 
collection. How much doctors differ in their judgement 
on this subject, may be shewn by a reference to another 
church hymn-book recently published, containing not 

* See Appendix. 


only the hymns, but "apt tunes to sing withaL" In tbis 
collection, out of some 500 hymns about /zm? hundraiaHd 
thirty may be foimd in the Wesleyan Hymn-Book, — 
leaving a wide margin beyond three, after allowing for the 
fact that many hymns in the Wesleyan collection are 
common to various Christian denominations. The com- 
piler of this modem work — distinguished, be it observed, 
by high patronage — has observed that in selecting his 
hymns he thought nothing of religious parties, but took 
good compositions from any source whatever; and it 
cannot be denied that he has succeeded in constructing 
a first-rate hymnal, in spite of the dismal caterwauling 
psalmody to which many of his songs are wedded. 

For the interests of that religious system with which he 
was so many years identified, he would regard it as both a 
duty and privilege to expend time, talent, and such other 
means as he possessed. It was no small gratification to 
him to see, in the year 1858, a new and beautifiil chapel 
erected at Portreath, near to which village he resided. For 
a long time, with the exception of a few occasional church- 
goers, this place had been almost sacred to Methodism. 
Nearly forty years previously the Baptist brethren had 
attempted to make it one of the outposts of Redruth, and had 
commenced Sunday preaching in the room which had been 
occupied by his schoolmaster referred to in a former 
chapter. But the soil was not a congenial one, and the 
ground had very soon to be abandoned. A small build- 
ing was erected for the Wesleyans, mainly by private 
effort, shortly after ; and this was at last succeeded by the 
house above-mentioned, one of the neatest models of a 
country chapel anywhere to be seen. In the mean time, 
the chapel at Bridge, associated with his earliest recollec- 
tions, and which he generally attended on the Sabbath, 
had gone very much out of repair, and here was another 
claim for exertion. Counsel was accordingly taken, pro- 


ceedmgs determined on, and the funds raised. In a 
short time the building was so thoroughly transformed 
into a nice and commodious place of worship, that those 
who saw the erection of the old temple had no need to 
weep over the new one, but rather looked with delighted 
wonder on the change which a few weeks had effected. 

As there was a general demand for his assistance in the 
way of missionary addresses, Sunday-school sermons, and 
lectures for various occasions, he had a sphere of Christian 
activity which seldom left him without work. To the 
literary institutions of the county his services for 
many years were readily and gratuitously given ; and in 
the ^rtherance of objects still less brilliant than useful — 
such as that of the lUogan Cottage Gardeners' Society — 
his co-operation might always be depended on. In a recent 
address delivered at one of these exhibitions he observed 
that flowers, though worthy of all honor, had been 
suffered to eclipse in too great a measure the less showy 
but more useftil vegetable ; and that while poets had 
lavished their highest gifts in celebrating roses and violets, 
we still wanted a genius endowed with the ''divine 
afflatus^ to sing the praises of onions. 

It hasl}een mentioned that when starting in the world 
his means were slender ; but as Providence favored him 
with more than ordinary success in the general specula* 
tions with which he was concerned, he realized such a 
competence as gave him, in addition to every personal 
worldly comfort, the privilege of being extensively useful 
to others. When business was no longer necessary as a 
means of support he was fond of its pleasurable excite- 
ment, which, to one who for many years had been neces* 
sarily occupied with much seailax work, was something 
hardly to be dispensed with. But as in such cases there 
is no small difficulty in drawing the just line of separation 
between what is required and what is superfluous, so it 


was very much to be regretted that some engagements of 
his later years became a source of mental anxiety not 
only needless for one in his circumstances, but very pre- 
judicial to that bodily health of which he had for the 
most part been favoured with a large measiu^ 

For several years there had been apparent symptoms 
of organic affection of the heart, and he had been the 
subject of occasional attacks which made it very probable 
that his life would be suddenly terminated. His medical 
advisers, however, had differed as to the nature of these 
symptoms; and although his health and spirits were 
sometimes very enfeebled, it was generally attributed to 
some defective regimen; more especially, as it was 
commonly observed that when his time was properly 
divided between business and recreation he seldom com- 
plained of indisposition. On Saturday, July 29, 1S65, he 
visited Portreath for the last time, and surveyed the 
preparations which were making for the annual horticol- 
tural meeting to be held on the following week. A friend 
who met him on returning to Fairfied observed, after he 
left him, that on ascending the hill he turned and gazed 
for a considerable time on the fine panorama which there 
lay outstretched before him, — the hills, and woods, and 
waters, and the calm unruffled sea bathed in the sunshine 
of a bright summer afternoon. 

He awoke the next morning at about six, and prepared 
to attend his usual class-meeting. While dressing himself 
he suddenly complained of a sharp pain across the chest, 
and "began to feel so very unwell that it was necessary 
to return to his bed. In about an hour, as there seemed 
no amendment, his medical attendant was summoned 
from Redruth, and he was speedily on the ground. It did 
not strike him that there was anything in the case of 
a very serious character, and the measures adopted for 
relieving the pain were so far successful that in a short 


time the patient was comparatively easy and cheerful. 
This was about 9 p.m., and for two hours afterwards there 
appeared so little reason to apprehend any return of the 
ailment that the doctor was just on the point of leaving, 
when at once it was observed that his eyes had become 
fixed. He was spoken to, but returned no answer. All 
was over. 

For some time previously his general health had been 
so good that those who knew him best thought there was 
every fair prospect of many happy years being added to 
his life. He seems, however, to have had himself some 
of those mysterious premonitions of approaching death, 
which are not to be resolved into any principles of human 
philosophy, but are rather to be interpreted as a voice 
from the unseen world, warning of the coming change 
and the needful preparation for it To some of his 
intimate friends he had thus expressed himself, and those 
who had been associated with him in public religious 
exercises had for some weeks previous to his decease been 
struck with the unusually fervent manner in which he spoke 
of the brightness of his Christian hopes. 

The tidings of the sudden event spread rapidly through 
the neighbourhood, and the public could scarcely believe 
the loss that had fallen on them. Through a wide circle 
of friends, acquaintances, and kindred, it was felt that one 
had been removed whose place could not be filled by any 
other. Few men had passed with more stainless honor 
through the different avocations of life. Sincere in his 
friendships, pleasant and genial as a companion, and 
with powers of conversation that brightened every com- 
pany into which he came, he had those natural and 
acquired endowments which almost made his name a 
household word in his native county. With every cause 
bearing upon the temporal or spiritual interests of his 
fellow-men he had held it an honor to be identified ; and 


temporal success had not blinded him to the obligations 
devolving on those whose providential blessings are grand 
items in a stewardship to be accoimted for at the great 
day. Simple and unostentatious in religious profession, 
he avoided all display in himself and abhorred it in others. 
And while steadfastly attached to the religious system 
from which he had derived his own spiritual benefit, he 
cherished a^ unfeigned regard for all of every denomina- 
tion who held to the great principles of practical Chris- 
tianity. Many an honorable tribute to departed worth 
was paid from the pulpit and the press, and in the Bridge 
Chapel — the sanctuary of his boyhood and riper age — 
his funeral sermon was preached by Dr. George Smith, 
of Trevu, Camborne, his friend and associate of many a 
'year, who had intimately known him in the various 
relations of public life, and to whom it was a pleasing 
though mournful task to commemorate the virtue that 
adorns and sanctifies those fiiendships which, though 
broken for a time by death, will be re-established and 
perpetuated hereafter. 


Robert Hall. 

(A liBOTDRI.) 

Thirty yean ago I went on a Sabbath morning to Broadmead Chapel, 
Bristol,^ with ezpectationB raised to a high point of excitement at the 
prospect of seeing and hearing a man who was admitted by general 
consent to be the first preacher of his age. There is nothing in the 
world, after all, which exerts so potent a charm as oratory*; and oTer 
speakers of every class the piilpit orator must hold undisputed pre- 
eminence, —for whether such pre-eminence exist in the man or not, it 
must always exist in the compaiatiTe Tastness and grandeur of his 
topics. To be the first preacher of his age was therefore to be the first 
orator of his age ; and it was something to step for the first time 
within the enchanted circle of genius of such an order. After a brief 
pause a door opened from the side wall near the foot of the pulpit 
stairs, and with a slow measured tread an elderly man, somewhat 
corpulent^ bending a little with years,— of rather stately port, and 
great solemnity of countenance— walked into the pulpit. In coomienc- 
ing the service his voice was low — so low, that but for his clear 
articulation it would have been hardly audible. It was the same at the 
beginning of his prayer, but as he proceeded it became more impassioned 
and fervent. The impression of that prayer renoains with me to this 
hour, — a pleading profoundly reverential, yet free and earnest, as if 
the Deity were sensibly present. Only to have heard Robert flail 
preach would be to see but one phase of the man. It was in prayer -the 
utterance of the heart— into which the intrusion of a secular eloquence 
would be felt as impertinent and profane — that he made the profoundest 
impression upon his hearers. The sermon he delivered that morning 
was on the words, " Looking unto Jesus." At this distance of time I 
have no recollection of the discourse, but there was a remarkable 
simplicity in the divisions ;—Jirttf looking to Him in ordinary seasons, 
—aeeondliff looking to him in extraordinary seasons ; an arrangement 
which, simple as it is, is perceived at once to be exhaustive of the 
subject. His audience was probably at that time one of the most 
intellectual in England. Apart from the great number of persons of 
refined taste in Bristol and its environs, there was generally a goodly 
number of strangers, attracted by the fame of the preacher, and 


among the mort eager listeners. There, too, was often to be seen om 
man who, with less fluency of utterance, was a profounder thinker than 
Hall himself. Screened from the preacher's sight by a projection in 
the building— wrapt apparently iu abstracted and gloomy meditation, 
and seeming to a mere outward spectator a rather forbidding-looking 
personage —sat John Foster. Yet any such spectator who looked 
attentively at that extraordinary man, must have seen by the occasional 
play of his features, and the occasional brightening of the eye, with 
what fresh unbroken interest he was moving upon the tracks of thought 
which the speaker opened up. It was no light thing, and so EEall felt 
it, to appear week after week before such an auditor as Foster, — a man 
of whom Josiah Hill said, after twenty years acquaintance with him, 
that he doubted if there was a profounder thinker in this world or the 
next. So far as the audience was concerned, on the occasion to which 
I refer, the most noticeable thing was their perfect silence, — the silence 
not of listlessness but of intense interest. But for the sight of that 
sea of upturned faces, and hearing the pent-up coughs that freed them- 
selves in the pauses of the discourse, the edifice would have seemed 
tenantless. The mastery of the speaker over the attention of his 
hearers was absolute. I should not attempt to describe the character of 
Mr. Hall's preaching from the scanty materials furnished by my own 
recollection, having heard him deliver but two sermons. But in one 
particular my own impressions coincide with what has been generally 
remarked as the most distinguishing feature of his oratory, — the perfect 
rhetorical structure and finish of every sentence, coming spontaneously 
from his lips as complete as if it had been elaborated by careful study. 
There can of course be no question that the substance of his disoourses 
was thoughtfully arranged in his mind before he entered the pulpit ; 
and I believe he generally made a few notes to assist his memory. But 
beyond this, there was no preparation. For much of his material, and 
for tiie verbal arrangement of the who^e, he relied on his power of 
extemporary utterance. Yet such was the facility with which he 
clothed his most abstract thoughts, in precise aud eloquent words, that 
no labour of preparation could have improved them. Beautiful as is 
his written style -''trembling upon perfection," as one of his critics 
describes it — there is a charm in his spoken stylo which is sensibly wanting 
in the other. Nor is this difficult to account for. There are some men 
— although the cases are rare —who have so copious and splendid a 
vocabulary, ready at all times for instant use, that they are never at a 
loss for appropriate words ; and such words, under the impulse of 
strong feeling, are flung together in forms of power and beauty 
unattainable by the cool, silent elaborations of rhetorical art I speak 
of what is one of the rarest and highest qualities of oratorical genius, 
and of which any single age furnished but few examples. But such a 
man was Mirabeau, whose impassioned thought must often have flashed 


into fomiB of speech which suiprued himself as well as electrified bis 
bearers. In the history of our own parliament for the last century, 
Lord Ghfttham, and next to him, Burke, would probably be instanced 
as the most illustrious examples of this quality. Among divines 
Whitefield must be placed at the head of the class— a class in which 
Bradbum would also take a hig^h rank. With such men we may reckon 
Robert Hall ; but with this difference, that in him there was less of the 
fire of passion, with more of intellectual grace and beauty. Directing 
our attention to men of poetical or philosophical genius, Coleridge 
stands separated by a measureless distance from all his contemporaries. 
I think it was Foster who said that, while Hall's power over words was 
imperial, Coleridge's was magical. His verbal opulence was boundless. 
He confessed that in all his life he was xicver conscious of being for one 
moment at a loss for the best word to express the most subtle thought. 
It is not much to be wondered at that to such men literary composition 
becomes an insufferable restraint. The winged Pegasus moves slowly 
and painfully in harness. Whitefield could transfuse none of the fire of 
his tongue into his pen. Bradbum published one sermon, and nobody 
who read it ever wished to see another. Coleridge groaned in spirit 
whenever he was chained to the desk. And of the countless discourses 
of Robert Hall, such was the dreary toil of composition, that ho gave 
the public only eight of them in a finished form. The most popular 
orator of our own time, Mr. Spurgeon, says, ** Writing is to me the 
work of a slave. It is a delight, a joy, a rapture, to talk out one's 
thoughts in words that flash upon the mind at the instant when they 
are required ; but it is poor drudgery to sit still and groan for thoughts 
and words without succeeding in obtaining them." If proof were 
required of the truth of this, it may be found in the book which Mr. 
Spuigeon has lately pubhshed, and which is so inferior to his oral dis. 
courses in all the qualities which constitute true eloquence. 

Let me here interpose one cautionary remark which ought to be kept 
in the recollection, especially of young men. This improvising talent is 
of little value except to men of extensive knowledge and undoubted 
genius. It has a counterfeit, by which many are misled. Their 
verbal fluency often simulates the tone and manner of genuine inspira- 
tion. Words may toko the place of thoughts, and flow in 

'* One weak, wnahy, eTorlastiiig flood." 

There is hardly a more fatal gift than a wealth of words, as this may 
co-exist with mental poverty, and serve only as its disguise. The men 
whom I have instanced as excelling in ready and powerful utterance, 
were men distinguished by the variety and extent of their knowledge. 
Chatham was trained in the philosophy of statesmanship. Burke had 
a mind so overflowing with all ancient and modem lore that Johnson 


feued to enominter him in debate. In all great iiitelleciual aooompliih* 
mente Coleridge had probably no living equal. In like manner Hall 
was stored with rich and various knowledge. He looked upon life as a 
great eduoational prooess, and was always extending the province of ita 
acquirements. Toung gentlemen who have finished their education at 
eighteen, and middle-aged gentlemen who would think it beneath their 
dignity to be caught poring over a school-book, will be surprised to learn 
that Robert Hall set about learning Italian when he was sixty-three. 
As an instance of the versatility of his knowledge, I may mentiMi a 
circumstance which was told me by a gentleman who was for a long 
time on a footing of personal intimacy with him. They were one day 
travelling together in a stage coach in company with two Manchester 
manufacturers who were talking to each other about some recent 
improvements in the machinery for cotton-spinning. Mr. Hall joined 
in the conversation, which was kept up between the three till he 
happened to leave the coach, when one of the Manchester men turned 
to my informant, and asked who his friend was. He replied by asking 
him why he wished to know. The answer was, that though the gentle- 
man was a stranger to him, he was evidently engaged in the same line 
of business with himself and his friend, and it was natural that they 
should like to know his name and where he lived. My informant then 
told them that the intelligence they wished was quite at their service, 
—that his name was Robert Hall, and that he was a Baptist Minister 
at Leicester. At this they expressed their surprise, and said they 
had been completely misled by the accuracy of his infonnation, and 
his thorough acquaintance with a variety of mechanical details on 
which they would not have expected to find any person informed to 
whom they were of no interest as affairs of business. 

I have adverted to the fact of only about eight sermons having been 
presented to the public by Robert HaU, in a finished state. The im- 
pression made at first by this fact is, probably, thai he made but a 
small contribution to the literature of the pulpit. Yet on a further 
consideration it will appear that he really contributed more largely 
than any other man. It must be borne in mind that these eight ser- 
mons are of so high an order that they are now incorporated with our 
classical literature. They are not dismissed with a single perusal, but 
are read again and again with fresh interest and delight. No preacher, 
sealous of his reputation for originality, would venture upon a quota- 
tion from either of them without a distinct acknowledgment. Now 
to what other English divine are we indebted for so many as eight dis- 
courses which have thus by common consent been plaoed among the 
first-class productions of the national intellect f When we think of the 
'' number without number, numberless** of sermons which have been 
preached in this country for the last two or three centuries, and that 
every Sunday adds thirty thousand to the number, it does seem strange 


that so few diaooarsM of the highest order hare been added to our 
literuy stores. Of sermoiis which we shoold wish to read more than 
onosy I doubt if there are a hundred in our language. It is therefore 
no small distinotion for the writer, that of this hundred eight are 
eontributed by one man. That these discourses do really belong to 
the high place I have assigned them, Ib attested by the Tariety of 
opinion as to their relatire merits. In Professor Sedgewiok's Discourse 
on the studies of the (Jniyersity of Cambridge, he pronounces the ser- 
mon on Modem Infidelity to be the noblest specimen of pulpit oratory 
the age has produced, — a tribute the more honorable, as rendered by 
a churchman to a dissenter. Oilfillan, a critic of no ordinary merit, 
gires the palm to the discourse on the death of Dr. Ryland. Perhaps 
the greatest number of suffrages would be in favor of that on the death 
of the Princess Charlotte. If I might venture to hasard a preference 
of my own, I should instance the sermon on the discouragements and 
supports of the Christian minister. But» as I have said, the very 
fact of this variety of taste as to the particular discourses is one of the 
best proofs of the intrinsic excellence of the whole. 

In speaking of the slender contributions made by popular preachers 
to our general literature, I wish to be understood as intending no 
disparagement to the general eloquence of the pulpit. My belief is, 
that pulpit eloquence in its highest forms has qualities which do not 
survive the transmission of the discourse to paper. like wines which 
to be tasted in perfection must be drunk on the spot where they 
are made^ and lose all their peculiar flavor on the removal, so there are 
sermons which dissociated from the preacher, the audience, and the 
occasion, lose all their power and appear stale and vapid. The lines of 
Whitefield's discourses on paper are like the electric wires without the 
electric fluid. The tones, looks, and gestures of a preacher, — ^the 
feelings, responsive or otherwise, of the hearers— and a variety of 
minute oironmstances in connexion with the time and the place, all 
contribute to the charm and potency of a pulpit address ; and these, of 
necessity, are all wanting in a printed report. I believe that many of 
the most effeotive discourses ever delivered would be poweriess on the 
sQent page ; and that many which we peruse with delight in the let- 
tered volume would, on repetition, be equally ineffective in vertMd 
delivery. The common mode of judging of the merits of a sermon by 
imagining how it would appear in print, is in truth one of the most 
fiallacious of all tests. The admission is an ungrateful one, but truth 
demands it» that for the essential purposes of the Christian ministry in- 
tellect of i^e highest order may often expend its energies with but 
little success. John Foster lamented that he knew of no one instance 
in which his ministry had led to the conversion of a souL And while 
at Cambridge, Leicester, and Bristol, su c c e s si vely, Mr. Hall's chapei 
was filled to overflowing— while men of taste and genins were attracted 


by his ministry, and while his pulpit was a shrine to which literary 
pilgrims crowded from all parts of the kingdom — ^the state of tiie 
church which was directly under his pastoral care corresponded but in- 
differently with his high reputation. I speak from the personal testi- 
mony of a minister of his own denomination^ who on one occasion took 
charge of his church at Leicester during his temporal absence, and was 
pained by the melancholy contrast between the state of his people and 
the reputation of their pastor. I do not mention this to detract from 
the merit of so great a man, but to show that in the gospel mission, 
while we are grateful for the exhibition of illustrious talent, our thanks 
are more emphatically due to men of obecure abilities but steady zeal, — 
men unknown to fame, but known and prized by Him whose approval 
they value more than the plaudits of a nation, and upon whose en. 
exY^es the advancement of a vital Christianity mainly depends. Let 
us, too, take this into account, —that men like Hall and Foster should 
rather be regarded as lights of the age than of any particular place or 
congregation. When intellect has so penetrative a power as to diffuse 
itself throughout the land, ought we to expect that its full intensity 
should be concentrated as well on a given spot ? Robert Hall will be a 
preacher to congregations yet unborn. His pages will be read with 
profit and delight while oiur language endures. Something may surely 
be allowed on the score of local and subordinate claims, to men who by 
their ministry and their writings are a blessing to their own and to 
future ages. If on such grounds a generous consideration should be 
shewn to any man, it is more especially due to Bobart Hall, on aooount 
of two calamities, either of which edngly was enough to embitter his 
whole existence. The first was a life-long suffering from acute bodily 
pain, the cause of which remained a mystery till his death. The ex- 
citement of his feelings in the pulpit was a temporary relief ; but how 
little were his hearers aware that the glowing eloquence with which 
they were delighted was often but a pause of suffering. How few of 
Uiem when returning from the chapel with their minds enriched with 
new lareasures of thought, were aware that at the same moment the 
preacher was lying on the vestry floor, writhing in agony ! As the 
malady was incurable he naturally sought any alleviation of it ; and 
the best was found in that seductive weed— tobacco. This was the 
cause of his being so inveterate a smoker. It is to be wished that 
many who indulge in that beastly luxury had half so good an excuse. 
The Virginian weed became his great solace ; and ho even wished hia 
friends to share in it. One whose name must probably be in the grate- 
ful recollection of many of my hearers — ^the late Mr. 'Moore of Tniro— 
told me that when he was a young man he called upon Robert Hall, 
with a letter of introduction. He took him into his study and with 
slight ceremony asked him a somewhat startling question. ''Mr. 
Moore, are you orthodox ? " Recovering from a momentary surprise, 


be said, " I presume, sir, that upon all caidinal poiots of belief, our 
opinions are alike.** ** Pooh, pooh," he said, ** I don't mean that. Do 
you smoke ?" Mr. Moore said he did not. " Then you should, sir. 
You should begin, sir. You should begin at once. I will order a pipe 
for you." And without any delay two pipes were brought. He filled 
one for himself, and then Mr. Moore, to his great horror, saw him filling 
the other for his own benefit. There was no ^ternative ; it was death 
or victory. So he set to and smoked the pipe fairly out ; and such was 
his interest in the sprightly talk of his host, — for he did not know to 
what other cause to attribute it— that he suffered no inconvenience 
from the experiment. Had some fairy Gumey been seated in Robert 
Hall's study, and recorded the oracles which issued from that doudy 
sanctum, we might have had a volume of fire-side talk second to none 
in the language. Over his pipe he luxuriated in social pleasantry. 
The story may be familiar to some of my hearers, of his talking away 
one night, in his usual playful style, at a friend's house, just after he 
had been preaching, when a brother minister whose notions of the de- 
corum of his office were rather precise, expressed his surprise that after 
the delivery of one of his most impressive discourses he could, as he 
said, " talk such nonsense." '' My dear brother," he replied, ** I sup- 
pose the difference between us is just this —that I reserve ray nonsense 
for the fire-side, while you give us yours from the pulpit." 

One of the most amiable traits in his character was his kindness 
to yomig men ; and the footing of personal friendship on which he 
placed them. The tutor at the Bristol Baptist Academy often supped 
with Mr. Hall on Sunday erenings. Sometimes a young student at the 
Academy was invited to accompany the tutor. That student — ^who now 
holds an an important office in the Bristol community — told me that 
the first time he went he hesitated to take part in conversation with 
a man of such celebrity ; and when he did venture to interpose some 
remarks, his tutor checked him for doing so. Mr. Hall at once re- 
monstrated against such a display of authority. ** You will remember, 
sir," said the tutor, " that this young gentleman is my pupil." " I do 
remember it, sir ; but I remember also that he is your pupil only on 
week days. Sir, he is your pupil at the College, but not at my table. 
Here he is on the same footing with yourself as my guest. I hope, sir, 
I shall hear nothing of this again" 

But he had to endure a worse calamity than bodily pain. There was 
an invisible enemy who stole at times uto the chambers of the brain, 
and darkened them with more than sepulchral gloom. How much worse 
than death is it, when the living body becomes the tomb of a dead 
mind ! The mysterious malady gave warnings of its approach, and it 
is inexpressibly mournful to contemplate his sensations as he felt within 
him a pressage of the coming storm. I can hardly imagine anjrthing 
more touching than the prayer ho onoo uttered from the pulpit when 


fearing a retom of mental diseaie, tbat "tf the appiroadiing ebud 
should oTenhadow him, yet that behind that doad he might o uti » «i »e 
with God.'* The secrets of his prison-house are bat impeirfeotly dis- 
closed in his memoirs ; nor perhaps on sach a subject is more minute 
information desirable. But it is recorded that his mind ic its 
wildest wanderings dwelt on the subjects most familiar with him, and 
that sermons and prayers full of sublime extraTsganoe came in proftisum 
from his lips ; while his power of cutting sarcasm seemed to remain in- 
tact, as some of his visitors could painfully testify. One of the best 
instances is that of a person whom he disliked visiting him one day and 
asking in tones of whining condolence, what could have brought him 
there. " What will never bring you here, sir, — ^too much brain, sir; 
too much brain." In his healthy state of mind, his saroastio v«tn, 
miless kept in check by graver feelings, must have rendered him very 
formidable. As it was, there were occasional sallies of the quality ; and 
there are just as many pungent sayings of his own reoorded, as of any 
great man in the last generation. I may add one, which is not ao 
generally known. He was one morning passing through a street ia 
Bristol to attend some meeting, and being — as was generally the 
with him — a little behind time, he noticed the approcush of a 
who, when they met, often inflicted upon him some very weaiisoma 
talk. He would have avoided a reixignition, but could not well manaffT^ 
it. His tormentor had fairly got hold of him, and was full of the det^ls 
of some doleful ailments he had suffered since they last met. '' Indeed, 
Mr. Hall, it is impossible to tell you what I have gone through. At 
one time I was actually at death's door."— "And pray, why didnt you 
walk in, sir— why didn't you walk jn I Good morning. Sir." Now Isi 
us look for a moment at these particulars'of Hall's history to which we 
have been advei'ting, and ask what in ordinary life mig^t be expected 
from, a person so circumstanced. Here is a man carrying in his p«eoii 
what has been emphatically called " an apparatus of torture " which 
made his existence very like a protracted agony ; while his mind is itaalf 
held by a fhtgile tenure, alternately brightening into reason, and dark- 
ening into madness. Should we not say that if any one could fairly 
claim exemption from the duties of life— absolute freedom tifxa the 
task-work of existence— and pass his time in as much ease and amuse- 
ment as he could command, it would be such a man ? Tet» how did thk 
man pass his life ? That tortured frame he compelled by an inteUectual 
mastery into active service. The powers of that diseased mind he 
plied with an unremitting eneigy. With such instruments he entered 
upon the severest studies, won trophies from new regions of thought^ 
raised himself to an illustrious enunenoe among the f oromcat men of his 
time, and bequeathed a heritage of wisdom and genius to saooeediqg 
generations. Let any young man of healthy body and mind, who feeb 
that he is idling away the morning of liife, ponder the example ef 


Robert HaD, and then decide whether he will any longer ikolh from 
doty and ahirk the most serioiis reeponabilities of existenoe. 

It is generally admitted that for oonversational ability llr. Hall 
fanked among the flnt men of his age. This is an infallible test of 
intelleotoal greatness. It is impossible that any man con attain to 
this eminence bat by a Tast range of knowledge and mental eneigy 
which holds such knowledge in command ready for nee on the ezigenoy 
of the moment, for azgument or illustration. True, there are cases of 
men who by great Tolubility and sprightliness acquire the reputation of 
fint-rate talkenf, and riiine as the lions of dinner parties and soirees. 
Such a man, for example, was Theodore Hook, to whom belongs all the 
fame which pertains to a running fire of puns, jokes, and grotesque 
fancies, kept up ad libitum as from an arsenal of unezhaustible stores. 
But this, though a very remarkable talent in its way, is a rery different 
and inferior thing to the kind of talk, for instance, to which Johnson 
referred when he was accustomed to say to BosweU, in speaking of a 
pleasant party, "WehadgoodoonTersation, Sir.'* I imagine Theodore 
Hook set down with Johnson and Burke, and what sort of figure would 
he have cut. But Hall would hare been a fiEur match for either of them. 
He had indeed more of the Johnsonian stamp and vigor of expression 
than any man since Johnson's day. The memorials of his oonreraation 
are quite up to the mark of any equal number of pages in BosweU, and 
leare the conviction that they would have won for him, had they been 
as minutely recorded, a fame as superior to that of his most eloquent 
discourses, as the oonrersational fame of the sage of Bolt Court is 
above that of his essays and biographies. Hall's conversational powers 
are the more noticeable, as the spirit ci a colloquy had generally to be 
sustained by himself. In eariy life he was privfleged with the com- 
panionship of Macintoeh— an inteUectual aid which he highly appre- 
ciated. At Oambridge he must often have met with men able to en- 
counter him in any arena of debate. But at Leicester and Bristol he 
must have felt himself solitary. At the latter place he often, it is true, 
met with John Foster, but he, though so profound a thinker, was not 
a very fluent talker. His involved, serpentine thoughts could not un- 
ooQ themselves in time to meet the demands of conversation. They 
seem, too, to have feared each other. Foster was intimidated by the 
brilliancy of Hall, and Hall by the profundity of Foster. Once he met 
Coleridge, but they were not weU matched. Coleridge in conversation 
had two faultfli,— one was, that he did not wish to hear any one talk but 
hhnself ; — the other, that most of what he did say, nobody could under- 
stand. In his best moods, he was well described by Madam de Stael, 
as a great master of monologue, but not of dialogue. Nor was he at 
all discriminating in adapting his talk to the taste of his company. 
Meeting at Sotheby's with Sir Walter Scott, he launched into an inter- 
minable disquisition on the Samothraoian Mysteries. " I never," said 


Scott, " was so bethumped with words.'* Yet CoIendg« was ooniddered 
by many the prince of talkers. A gentleman who knew him intimately 
told me that he accounted for the inequality of Coleridge's ooUoqnial 
performances in this way. His range of information was so extensTo 
that there was ticketted, as it were^ in his mind, a short disoonne upon 
a variety of subjects ;^siich as were likely to turn up in the oonTersa- 
tion of literary men ; so that on any one of these being started, he was 
ready with a very fluent and forcible deliverance, such as his 
hearers coiild not but be gratified in listening to ; but that when he 
ventured to start a new topic on which his thoughts had not previoosly 
been adjusted, however clear his meaning might be to himself, it was 
very indistinct and cloudy to his hearers. Now talk of this kind can 
hardly be called conversation. Very different was the table-talk of 
Hall. All his thoughts ran with lucid clearness, the current oftmi 
shooting up in jets of sparkling wit. He excelled, too, in those pithy 
condensations of thought which include a volume in a word. How happy 
was the epithet " Kaleidoscopic," he applied to the frequent iteratioa 
of the same idea by Dr. Chalmers. How seriously he damaged the 
fame of Dr. GUI, by styling his work " a continent of mud." We may 
believe that half iiie c^arp things of this kind which crossed his mind 
were never uttered. His generous spirit often kept him silent where 
a less scrupulous man would have spoken out. When a minister of 
very inferior abiUty once preached before him, he was pressed after- 
wards by a friend to give his opinion of the discourse. " I ^ould sup- 
pose the preacher a very good man, sir." " I diure say ; but that's not 
an answer to my question." "I take him to be a well-meaning, 
zealous man, sir." "Yes, Mr. Hall, but I ask, your opinion of him as 
a preacher." " Well, sir, since you wiU have a direct reply, I should 
suppose that his Maker predestinated him to be a iool from all eter- 
nity." As an instance of the felicitious expressions dropped by him in 
common conversation, I may mention what was related to me by a 
friend of his who was one day riding with him on the roof of a stage- 
coach in the neighbourhood of Leicester. He directed the attention of 
the narrator to a gentleman's residence at a little distance from the 
road, and asked if he had ever been there. On receiving a reply in the 
negative, he said, " I have, sir ; I have gone there often, and I have 
never seen a place which seems so tasteful and complete in all its 
arrangements. The mansion is built in the present style of architec- 
ture, it is most elegantly furnished, and the approaches, the gardens, 
and ornamental grounds are all designed in the most exquisite taste. 
I have never seen so perfect a place." Then, pausing, he added, 
" Yet I never went over it without a feeling of melancholy ; it looks so 
like a vain attempt to imprint upon human life something that doe*nt 
belong to it." A sentiment so happily expressed was worthy of the 
lips which in describing the mutabilities and fading glory of life, for^ 


niflhed the picture with one touch— never excelled in luch description — 
** the human race itself withering away." 

The merits of Robert Hall's literary style, although so many of my 
audience must be acquainted with them, demand a distinct notice in 
any general estimate of his powers. There is a style of criticism on 
such subjects, which, I confess, is not much to my taste. It consists 
in dealing with qualities which a writer wants, or is alleged to want* 
instead of those he actually has. The style of Hall, treated in this way, 
is said to want idiomatic ease and pliancy — occasional brealcs and curt 
sentences, and the grace that springs from yariety and an airy negU- 
genoe. Now, admitting tiiis to bo true, it is of very little importance. 
The style of a writer is a good or a bad one, not so much as it is like or 
unlike other men's styles, but as it faithfully, or otherwise, reflects his 
own thoughts and feelings. The style of a writer is a part of his own 
mind, — ^an image of his distinct individuality ; and to complain of it 
that it is not another style is just as unreasonable as to complain that 
the man is not somebody else instead of himself. If all styles should 
be alike, then all minds should be alike, which would give our literature 
a somewhat unpleasant monotony. Looking then at his style, with 
reference to its positive merits, tJie question may be asked. What are 
its peculiarities ? The answer is very brief — None. There are no pecu - 
liarities in Hall. It is for this reason that you never meet with any 
imitation of his style. Inferior writers can imitate the peculiarities in 
the style of so great a man, though they cannot reach to its substantial 
excellence ; but in him, there are no shoots or excrescences of the kind 
to lay hold of. Nobody can imitate Hall but a man who thinks like 
Hall, and such men do not imitate anybody. Gilflllan speaks of his 
style as a compound of Addison, Johnson, and Burke. It is no slight 
oompUment to any writer that he blends the tasteful ^simplicity of 
Addison with the rotund sentences of Johnson, and the stately periods 
of Burke ; yet Hall cannot in strictness be called an imitator of either of 
them. He was only so inasmuch as the plastic facilities of the English 
language itself had been increased by their writings, — an advantage 
which was shared by Hall only in common with all who came after 
them. In his conversational style only did he seem to bo a copyist of 
Johnson ; but then, such was the vigor and originality of his conceptions 
that he appeared to be as much a reproduction of the mind as of the style 
of Johnson ; so that, if a cop>ist at all, it was in a very different way, for 
instance, from Parr, who, with Dr. Johnson's tones and gestures, and 
airs of authority, seldom uttered anything but twaddle. But in Hall's 
literary productions no traces of imitation, even of the loftiest standards, 
are discernible. What he says appears to be the pure emanation of 
the mind, in language so clear as to remind us of Fenelon's definition 
of a perfect style,— that it is like the glass through which an object 
is seen, itself so transparent as to be unnoticed. There is just a spice 



of mannwifim ; and you can bat fed that bis very fastidious tastes told 
represriTely upon his pen. But with these slight abatemants, then has 
perii^M been no man to whoee writings we should more leadDy refer 
as specimens of the strength, preoisbn, and eleganoe of our mother 
tongue. To one striking quality of his style I must make a poin t ed 
adyertenoe. I refer to its musical struotnre. Great writers are as 
much compoiei'9 as great musidans. They test the eound of words by 
a sense as exquisite as that which tries notes of muda They oombine 
words, as the musician blends his notes, into sprightly or solemn 
moYements,— into triumphal swells or dying falls. This art is one of 
the secrets of genius> -untaught and incommunicable ; and this Hall 
poaaessed in perfection. His sermons are magnifioent lyrics ; each 
separate paragraph is a melody, and the periods are like bars in a 
strain of musia I dont know that he ever wrote a tine of poetry, nor 
am I aware whether he had what is called an ear for music. But the 
divine spirit of poetry colors his prose, and beyond all rules of musical 

<* His thoogfats, inrolantaxy, more 
Harmonioiui nomben.'* 

But infinitely in value above the graces of hie style are the moral 
qualities of his writings. If I were asked to state in the briefest form 
what appears to be the distinguishing merit of his discourses, I should 
■ay it cousiBts in this— that they are the expression of evangelioal 
truth by a philoeophical mind ; and that^ in a mode adapted to popular 
apprehension. To the interests of religion he has thus rendered 
incalculable service. It does not abate from his merit in this rsspeot^ 
that he was preceded by men of illustrious talent who oontributed to 
the same department of sacred literature. The names of Jeremy 
Taylor, South, and Barrow, stand high among English sermoniaen ; 
and, on this side of the Tweed, at least, Blair held for a long time an 
undisputed supremacy dmong Scottish preachers. But the wild 6xubeB> 
anoe of Taylor's imagination, with the profusion of Latin and Ore^ 
quotations — ^the strong political feelings which discolor the sermons of 
South— the somewhat dry and logical cast of Barrow— and the unim* 
passioned style of Blair— are causes, independently of much defective 
theology, which narrow the perusal of their works to a very limited 
circle of readers compared with those who are familiar with HalL 
Among modem preachers no two probably made a nearer ap- 
proach to him than Chalmers and Watson. For instant impressioa 
at the moment of deUvery it would appear that Chalmers was superior 
to Hall, but in their published form his sermons do not sostton their 
early reputation. Watson's, on the contraiy, lose nothing of their 
original power by passing through the press, and it would not be 
difficult to quote from them passages equal to the most striking and 


eloquent that could be extracted from Hall. There hare been but few 
recent oontributious to pulpit literature of greater value than the two 
Yolumes of Lectures—as they are modestly oa]led-~deliyered at Hall's 
own Chapel in Broadmead, by John Foster. Full of vigorous and 
sometimes sparkling thought, and more tene and pungent in style than 
the generality of Foster's writings, it is to be regretted that they were 
not expanded into a complete form instead of appearing in their purest 
fragmentary shape. Had they been elaborated as carefully as his 
celebrated Essays, they would have rivalled them in popularity. It 
will, perhaps, be contrary to the impressions which generally obtain 
as to the character of Hall's intellect, when it is stated that he 
delighted much more in processes of severe reasoning than in excursions 
of the imagination. His biographer tells us that the book ^diich was 
the companion of his youth, and continued his greatest favourite 
through life, was " Edwards on the WiU." " Chillingworth's Religion 
of Protestants'' was also held in especial honor. Of Bentham he had 
80 high an opinion that he said if he were called on to make laws for a 
State he would go step by step with Bentham, and feel as if he were 
treading upon adamant. With such likings it is not much to be won- 
dered at if he held merely imaginative writers rather cheap. His 
acquaintance even with Byron, though the most popular poet of his 
day, was so little that he never even read his noblest performance, the 
fourth canto of Childe Harold. He came at last to think that even the 
imaginative faculty is not essential to the highest order of eloquence. 
We are told that only a few months before his last illness, in classifying 
the different natures and respective effects of the eloquence of reason 
of passion, and of imaginatiou, he selected his principal iUustrations 
from Demosthenes, and endeavoured to show that where the two former 
kinds of eloquence existed in due proportion, the third was of very 
little consequence. Now I think that any one who has paid the least 
attention to the philosophy of eloquence will hesitate in subscribing to 
this dictum. I should only infer from it that in Mr Hall's own mind 
the imaginative element was constitutionaUy the least active, or that 
with the increase of years and infirmities it was the first to show signs 
of decay ; for we can no more assent to the doctrine that eloquence 
of the highest order would sustain no loss by the withdrawal of the 
imaginative element than that the beauty of the rainbow would be un* 
Himfa<«hflH by the abstraction of one of tiie prismatic hues. 

But the personal character of Bobert Hall was a nobler tribute to 
Christianity than his preaching or writings. All the memorials we have 
of him represent him as a man of deep, earnest, and oonsistent piety. 
The most eloquent tributes to religion, from the pulpit or the press, 
lose half their value when the personal character of their authors is not 
in harmony with them. The theology of Bobert Hall was as much in 
his heart as in his understanding. The history of his life testifies that 


bis religion was not a habit of mere professional deccamy but a Htix^ 
principle^ cherished in his inmost soul, and displaying its energy aUye 
in his domestic, social, or ministerial engagements. He was not placed 
under that melancholy compulsion, too often felt by men in the sacred 
office, of passing over or dwelling but lightly upon, some of the require- 
ments of evangelical truth, because of the too marked contrast with 
their personal delinquencies. As a Christian minister he lived under a 
sense of his solemn responsibility, and shunned not to declare the whole 
counsel of God. If it were possible to reproduce his last discourses in 
a perfect form, the most impressive parts would be those in which he 
strove— to use his own words— "to make the hearers feel the finger 
of the preacher searching their conscience." The tenderness, and 
fervor, and pleading eneiigy, of his personal expostuIaUons can be 
fully appreciated by none but those who heard them. It was a spark 
of that firo which glowed in the heart of the Apostle, when he declared 
that he could himself submit to be accursed so that Israel might be 
saved. One of the most striking proofs of his roligious spirit was shown 
by the manner in which he bore his distressing malady. It was not 
merely patience, it was cheerfulness. The victim of incessant, and 
often of excruciating pain, — so that for more than twenty years he 
could never lie down for more than two hours at a time— he remitted 
none of his pursuits or studies, and preserved a serenity of temper 
which shed its beauty upon everything around him. In his latest 
years, when he sometimes heard others complaining of blank days, and 
dull parties, he met their complaints by telling them that he felt life to 
be full of pleasure. "I enjoy everything," was his own gleesome 
expression. Fancy him surrounded by others in youth, health, and 
every external requisite of happiness, — tliey complaining of a vapid 
style of life and the want of things to interest them ; — and he, prostrate 
with pain, raising his venerable head from his book or oouch, and 
exclaiming, " I enjoy everything !" 

I have presented you, not a finished portrait^ but a faint etching of 
the character of one of the most memorable men of our times. We 
ought never to regard our minds as well furnished unless they contain 
a good picture-gallery of the most illustrious men who have adorned the 
history of our race. The image of a great and good man, treasured in 
the memory, is, in itself, a valuable possession, and every addition to 
the number is an increase of mental wealth. I shall have cause of con. 
gratulation if what I have said shall induce any of my hearera to ^hom 
Robert Hall's writings are yet new, to purify their taste at that " well 
of English undefiled ; " and still more, if the study of his character 
should cause its virtues to be reflected in themselves. For whether we 
regard him as a man, a Christian, or a divine, he has the highest 
claims to our respect and reverence ; while his heroic devotion to Mxo 
good of his fellow-men, and the master-pieces uf saored eloquence with 
which he has enriched our language, must shed an imperiahable lustre 
upon his name and memory. 


Our Hymn Book. 

In tracing the rise of Methodism, we can but notice the combination 
of rare qualities by which its Founder was distinguished. He had the 
power of meeting the human mind at anv point of contact. As an 
Oxford scholar he could have enjoyed to the full the luxury of lettered 
ease and dignity ; but he forsook this, to go forth among the highways 
and hedges to preach to ignorant and brutal crowds. Samuel Johnson 
was the literary high-priest of his times, and his study was the resort 
of the most accomplished men of the day. John Nance lired in a cot- 
tage at St. Ivos, and knew hardly any book but his Bible. But John 
Wesle}' was the companion of both, and could meet each as a kindred 
spirit. Ho could ramble in affectionate intercourse with Diggory 
Joll across the black moors between Launceston and Bodmin ; and 
could engage with Warburton on a question of Greek criticism, and 
send the Bishop limping from the context. To a band of German 
colonists he preached in their own tongue, and on one occasion being in 
ft company of French soldiers, he preached to them in French. Until 
you light upon this record in his Journals, you meet with nothing to 
show that he had any more acquaintance with that language than is 
conunon with educated men, — which is a very inferior accomplishment 
to the ability to preach in it. Whole languages seemed to lie about 
in odd nooks and comers of his memory, and he had but to fetch them 
out when they were wanted. Then, his bodily energy was equal to the 
vivacity of his mind. You read of his journeying on foot a whole day 
in the Savannah, wading at evening throtigh a river which rose to his 
waist, apd then lying down and sleeping in a wood all night in his wet 
clothes. His elastic and sinewy frame never weighed more than six 
score and two. He was thus singularily endowed both in mind and 
body. Without a mind of great natural vigor, and richly stored with 
knowledge, lodged in a hardy and disciplined frame, he would have 
been unequal to the sublime mission set before him. Add to those 
qualificatious a spirit of burning love and apostolic seal, and we hare 
the ideal of a great religious reformer. 

Yet one accomplishment was wanting. John Wesley was not a poet. 
I do not mean by this, that he was destitute of the poetic faculty ; for 
the few hymns and tmnslations he has left us prove the contrary. 
What I mean to assert is that he wrote so little (and that little, 
unmarked by any extraordinary merit) that, in comparison with his 
higher fame his poetic achievements are hardly appreciable. The 
difference between John and Charles Wesley, as poets, is the dif- 
ference between taste and genius. The first sometimes wrote verse 
as a scholarly accomplishment, —the other poured it forth from a full 
heart, and by a divine necessity. And the qualities which in the elder 


brother seem to mark him, as by special appointment; for his gn>'eat 
office, are not more conspicuous than the sublime gift which fitted 
the younger to give such efficient aid to the cause which was nearest 
the hearts of both. 

Of all God's intellectual gifts to man poetical genius is the most 
transoendant. Great philosophers, great heroes, great statesmen, 
crowd the pages of history ; but great poets appear only at rare 
nd distant intervals. And of all kinds of poetry devotional lyrics 
take the precedence. To celebrate worthily what Milton calls '' the 
throne and equipage of God's aJmightinew,"— to raise the human mind 
into communion with the Divine— to give utterance to whatever in 
man's nature is in closest alliance with the spiritual and eternal, — ^are 
the highest efiforts of which sanctified genius is capable ; and such are 
the services rendered to us by the masters of the devotional lyre. 
Homer stands by universal consent at the head of the classic poets of 
antiquity. But contrast Homer with David, and bow poor in com- 
parison does he seem in all that constitutes true fame. In England, at 
this day, there are hardly, perhaps, half-a-dosen people in every pariah 
who have once read the Iliad or the Odyssey ; whUe every returning: 
Sabbath beholds hundreds of thousands reciting or chanting the lyrics 
of the King of Israel. 

We have not perhaps been accustomed to appreciate the benefits 
we receive from such a collection of hymns as Charles Wesley compoeed 
for our community. Some brief considerations may help us to a more 
distinct conception of them. 

The Psalms, incomparable as they are, cannot be pronounced in th^ 
full sense, ChrUtian. They make no advance beyond the Jewish 
theology. Coleridge remarks upon this, as a defect in the service of 
the Church of England. Although, he says, we preach and pray as 
Cliristians, yet to this day we sing only as Jews.* Now, Charlse 
Wesley was alive to this want ; and by embodying the full 
expression of the great truths of the Gospel in his glowing songs, he 

* Buoh was the dictum of Mr. Coleridge ; and the writer of the article has, too 
hastily adopted the opimon of one who, though an origiiia] and acute thiokor, 
■eems generally to have regarded hia oracular dedidons aa only second in aiatho- 
rity to those of the Scriptiuea themselTea Coleridge aasnmee that beoanae the 
Psalms have uo directly Christian phraseology there is no ChristiaQity in them. 
He might aa well say that there ia do Christianity in the Lord'a Prayer; for that 
form of worda oontaios not a syllable respecting any one peeollar doctrine of 
the Christian fiiith. The truth is» that the lofby spirituality of the Paalms 
adapts them to eveiy age and every dispensation ; whatever ia lacking indirect 
Christian phraseology being unoonsdouidy supplied by the mind of the reawfar. 
That many of their expressions are Jewish only, no one will disrate ; but their 
strains of devotion, prayer, praise, and supplication, are only Jewiah in the aaiiM 
Reuse that the trees and flowers of Palatine were Jewish, — growing, no doabt, 
upon a Jewish land and under a Jewish economy. 


raised the Tocal (tart of the service to the same doctrinal leyel with the 
prayers and the sermon. Our worship is not so conducted that a mere 
spectator might doubt, on entering, whether he was in a Christian 
Church or a Jewish synagogue. 

In speaking thus of Charles Wesley, I am not unmindful of the great 
service which had been already rendered to the Christian world by Dr. 
Watts. And such is the tenacity with which our Independent'and Baptist 
friends cling to Watts's hymns, that I believe there are at this day num- 
bers of their members, and even ministers, who are hardly aware even of 
the existence of the Wesleyan hymns. I met, a few years ago, with one 
of the most distinguished ministers among the Baptists, who candidly 
avowed on my reading some of Charles Wesley's finest hymns to him, that 
till then he had never met with them. Of Dr. Watts's hymns I would 
speak only in terms of praise ; and the value set upon them by the com- 
piler of our Hymn Book is best shown by the fact that they form nearly 
a tenth part of the whole ooUection. But, for our worship, it is enough 
to say that these hymns do not biiing out of the Gospel treasury aD the 
doctrines which hold a conspicuous place in the Wesleyan theology. 
It is to be regretted, also, that Dr. Watts allowed his genius to be so 
fettered by the narrow limits of his metres. What we term Umgy 
common, and tkort metres are the only varieties in his range. Charles 
Wesley amplified the metres, first, by doubling the verses in those I 
have named ; then, by that slow, solemn measure, miwm«,— thenby the 
blending of eights and tevent, and of tevent and tixes. The hymns in six 
lines of eights are some of the noblest of his compositions. Similar 
praise must be given to those in " trumpet'' metre. There are six 
other varieties ; so that while the measures of Dr. Watts (if we take 
both Psalms and Hymns) are but five or six, those of Charles Wesley 
are about seventeen. Now it is worthy of notice, that there is a fine 
harmony subsisting between thoughts and their metrical expression. 
There are lyrics in which the cadences are so exquisitely adapted to 
the development of the idea to be conveyed, that in no other measure 
could it be brought out with equal effect. The train of thought in that 
beautiful hymn, " Rock of Ages," could hardly be expressed in so 
effective a manner, save in the metre chosen by its author. Imagine 
a transposition of Pope's " Vital Spark" into trumpet metre, — ^with 
what success would it be attended ? How would that glorio^is melody 
** Wrestling Jacob" be affected by turning it into the measure of "The 
Ood of Abraham Praise?"— or the latter, by changing it into long 
metre ? We feel, as by instinct, that such alterations would be fatal. 
The mysterious harmony between the sound and the 8ea% being 
destroyed, the spirit of the lyric would evaporate. Perhaps the dif- 
ference in regard to variety of metre, between Dr. Watts's hynms and 
Charles Wesley's, may be in part accounted for by the consideration 
that It is very possible to have poetical genius without musical taste. 


This, I believe, was the case with Dr. Watts. But Charles Wesley 
was a musician as well as a poet ; and so he grasped the tzeasures of 
sweet and solemn sound, and appropriated them to the servioe of his 
muse ; giving a breadth of freedom to his compositions, the value of 
which his great rival had failed to estimate. 

I have spoken of some of the peculiarities of the Wesleyan Hymn 
Book which lie so much on the surface that they can hardly have escaped 
the attention of any thoughtful observer. But there is another 
peculiarity belonging to it, not quite so obvious, but especially deserv- 
ing of notice. We must readily admit that the vital element of worship 
is prayer. Without this, there would, in tnith, be no acceptable 
worship. Now, that element which is the very life of devotion, ought 
largely to enter into the songs of the sanctuary. It would not be 
difficult to find hymns, and collections ol hymns, which seldom place 
the assembly as pleaders at the footstool of the Divine mercy. Rich in 
the language of praise these compositions may be, and replete with 
solemn and edifying thought ; but they rarely breathe the spirit of 
prayer. About twenty-five hymns in Dr. Watts's three books are 
supplicatory. More than half of the seven hundred and seventy 
hymns contained in the Wesleyan Hymn Book utter, in whole or in 
part, the language of prayer ; and of these nearly all are the composi- 
tions of Charles Wosley. How admirably they are adapted to express 
the deepest wants and most fervent desires of the soul, in every phase 
of Christian experience, is shown by the frequency with which single 
lines and sometimes whole verses are used in prayer. You will seldom 
attend a prayer meeting in which some petition is not uttered in 
quotation from the hymns. 

Apart from the utility of the Hymn Book as a manual of devotion, 
it has answered another purpose of primary importance. The history 
of the Church abounds with proof that aU great religious com- 
munities are subject to doctrinal corruptions, such as are often fatal to 
their piety and growth. It is well, therefore, that in all such bodies 
there should be some authenticated standards of doctrine, by which all 
the essential points of belief are clearly defined. It is common to 
refer to Mr Wesley's sermons and notes on the New Testament, as 
embodying our distinctive theology. But, if I were asked by a stranger 
to refer him to the most popular compendiimi of Wesleyan doctrine, I 
should not direct him to Mr. Wesley's Sermons or Notes, nor to the 
Commentaries of Clarke or Benson, nor to Watson's Institutes, nor to 
any other of the numerous works in which our dogmatic theology is 
explained or defended. I should refer him to the Hymn Book. That 
book contains the belief of the mass of our people. Their Commen- 
taries and Institutes are there. I do not say this in disparagement of 


the excellent works to which I bate adyerted. Of such, let there be 
ample provisioii for ministers and students, and the reading and 
reflecting part of the community. But the strains which are familiar to 
every household — the songs with which the mother lulls her infant to 
slumber on her bosom - the melodies which cheer the traveller on his 
lonely path—or the ploughman while he turns the furrow— or the 
miner in his subterranean solitude ; — ^the words in which a mourning 
spirit utters its sorrows, or a happy soul pours forth its overflow of 
blessedness —these are in reality the creeds and articles of a community. 
And so, while Charles Wesley was composing the strains which were to 
animate our devotional feelings, he was at the same time fixing our 
doctrinal standards. What solitary truth, precious to the Christian 
beHever, is not vividly displayed in these hymns ? WTiatever changes 
may mark the future history of Methodism, we need not apprehend 
any doctrinal declension. As long as the Hymn Book keeps its place 
in our public worship, our household, and closets, so long will the purity 
of our faith be guarded by the double defence of the understanding 
and the affections. At this moment, how many children are prattling 
these hymns at their parents' knees ; bow many prayerful spirits are 
giving utterance to them in their closet silence ; what griefs are being 
lightened, and joys increased, by the singing of these sacred melodies ! 
I remember an instance, and my readers can probably refer to others, 
in which a happy soul, while singing a verse from one of our hymns, 
passed away to the other world. The song which began on earth 
ended in heaven ; the notes of the Church militant blended vrith those 
of the Church triumphant. Death iteelf was^but a bar in the musio 
between the strains of oft-repeated praise and the song of Moses and 
the Lamb. 

There is one touching peculiarity in our Hymn Book. The funeral 
hymns are, almost without exception, hymns of joy. Before the times 
of the Wesleys, funeral strains were of a saddening and melancholy 
cast. Death was associated only with saddening and gloomy images. 
But it was a beautiful feature of early Methodism, that a dying chamber 
was turned into a place of joy and thanksgiving. When Mr. Wesley's 
mother died, her children stood around her bed and joined in a song of 
praise ; and such incidents are frequently recorded in the journals of 
both her sons. The first check given to the spirit of persecution in 
Bristol was on the death of a poor woman named Hannah Bichardson. 
A happy death was in those days a strange thing ; and when her 
thoughtiess and wicked neighbours heard how joyfully this woman 
died, and saw her coffin borne away by Christian friends with strains 
of triumph, it was felt that the religion which could make such a 
change was a wonderful thing. From that time, therefore, they ceased 
to perseonte. It was natural that the feelings excited by joyful deaths 


abould find uttannoe, with Charles Wesley, in his funenl hymns. The 
openiuer liiM is genenlly a key note to the entire melody :— 


B^Joioe ftr a hrotherdaoeased;'* 

" Hark I a voioe divides the sky, 
Happy aze the flUthftil dead ;" 

" Again we lift oar ToiQe 
And ■hoat our aolenm Joys ;'* fe. 

The language of funeral songs is mostly expressive of the triumph of 
death. But these hymns celebrate a victory over death. The utter- 
ance of the Christian poet is in harmony with that of the Hebrew 
prophet^ — " The ransomed of the Lord shall return to Zion, with songs 
and everiasting joy upon their heads." 

I would advert to an objection which is sometimes made against the 
Wesleyau Hymns. It is said that they are defective in the elements 
of true poetry, and wanting in those adornments of style which 
gratify a oorrect and elegant taste. I once heard a complaint of this 
kind from a clergyman who was speaking of a compilation which had 
been recently made by some of his ministerial brethren, from the great 
body of hymn-writers, as an aid to the church service. He said, thai 
on examining the Wesleyan hymns, they could find but ikrtt which 
came up to their standard of poetical merit. I trust I am not wanting 
in due reverence for men who had purified their taste at the fountains 
of Tate and Brady ; but one would like to have been present at sudi a 
oonclave when the merits of CSuurles Wesley's hymns were under dis- 
cussion, and to have learnt by what canons of criticism they wore 
guided in their choice. I should be curious to know what they 
thought of such hymns as " Inspirer of the Ancient Seers," " Thee 
will I loye, my strength, my tower," and many others which crowd 
upon the memory. The marvel is, how it was possible for men of sound 
mind (to say nothing of cultured taste) to blind themselves to the 
merits of such compositions. To deal, however, more at large with 
this objection :— When it is alleged that our hymns are deficient in the 
graces of genuine poetry, there is a preliminary question to be asked. 
What u genuine poetry f I suppose it may be answered that it is 
poetry which does not belong to some peculiar school of taste, and 
which is not sanctioned merely by any arbitrary rules of criticism, 
but which maket iU appeal, univenally, to tke keari of sum. Homer 
and Bfilton are not admitted to be great poets only because scholariy 
tastes have disoovered their excellencies ; but because the pictures they 
draw, and the sentiments they express, have met a response in thie 
common feelings of dviliBed men. Now, the poetry of Charles Wesley 
rests upon a similar foundation. Those strains which haTe gone to the 


hearts of a wide-spread rdigious oommtmity, and become inoorporated 
with their modes of thought and speech, have pasrad all the tribunals 
of literary jurisdiction. Millions of worshippers have found these 
hymns to be at once the best interpreters and prompters of thttr 
doTotional feelings ; and this fact alone is enough to authenticate their 
claim as poetry of a high order. Well did James Montgomery lay that 
he would rather be the writer of a few hymns which should become the 
imperishable heritage of the Christian Qiurch, than bequeath another 
epic to the world which should rank his name with Homer, "^'^fp^t ^^^ 

This casual reference to Montgomery reminds me that in his admir- 
able Yolume published under the title of " The Christian Psalmist," he 
assigns the first rank among hymn-writers to Dr. Watts, and the second 
to Charies Wesley. I should think it not improbable that the Preface, 
in which this order is assigned them, was written before the selections 
were made ; else it seems singular that, with such an estimate of their 
comparative merits, while he selects fifty-one hymns from Dr. Watts, 
he transcribes ninety-three from Charles Wesley. This looks very 
much like an iuToluntaiy homage to the latter, in foxgetfulness of his 
own critical Terdict. 

I have attempted to express -though, I fear, somewhat obscurely — 
the thoughts uppermost in my mind in referonce to our " metrical 
liturgy," a compilation which, whateyer may be its defects, stands so 
high in my own esteem, that if I were allowed to have but one book in the 
world besides the Bible, it should be that Tolume. So rich a repositoiy 
of evangelical truth, in forms best adapted to reach the heart and the 
intellect of the people, is not, I believe, to be found in any other 
section of the Christian Church. It was said by one of the most 
eloquent of our critics on Milton, that it is not too much to expect that 
his immortal poem may survive the fires that shall consume the earth, 
and be preserved in the celestial archives as a specimen of the genius 
of an extinct race. I believe that many of our hymns will be treasured 
in another world, in the memories of jtist men made perfect. There is 
nothing extravagant in the conjecture, that whatever was instrumental 
in turning them from darkness to light, and in quickening their steps 
in the pilgrimage to Zion, should there be remembered with gratitude 
and joy. There have been men endowed with the most splendid gifts 
of genius, who have employed them only to vitiate and ruin their 
fellow men ; and who, if conscious in another state of the evil of which 
their works are continually prolific in this, must from that thought alone 
feel an ever-augmenting misery. In what striking contrast with such 
poets and their pestilent verse, stands the sweet singer of our 
Israel ! Of him most truly may it be said, that " he built his Pindus 
upon Lebanon." And among 931 the minstrels of the sanotuaiy there 
is not one for whom we more fervently breathe the benediction, — 

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